L,  LIBRARY 

OK   THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

«  T!  KT  OR 


Received 
Accession  No. 


$* 


.  igo 
•    Class  No. 


JAN    7  1901 


ON  THE  THRESHOLD.    Lectures  to  Young  People. 

i6mo,  $1.00. 

THE  FREEDOM-OP  FAITH.  Sermons.  i6mo,$i.5o. 
LAMPS  AND  PATHS      Sermons  to  Children.    New 

Edition.     i6mo,  $1.00. 
THE  APPEAL  TO  LIFE.    Sermons.    i6mo,  $1.50. 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO. 

BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK. 


ON  THE  THRESHOLD 


BY 


THEODORE  T.  HUNGER 


"  Many  men  that  stumble  at  the  threshold 


REVISED  AND  ENLARGED  EDITION 


BOSTON    AND    NEW   YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY 


1892 


M 


?2  26* 

Copyright,  1880  and  1891, 
BY  THEODORE   T.  HUNGER. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.)  U.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  0.  Houghton  &  Co. 


NOTE  TO  REVISED  EDITION. 


IT  is  proper  to  state  that  this  revised  edi- 
tion is  not  due  to  any  change  of  opinion  on 
the  subjects  treated,  but  to  the  exigencies  of 
publication.  The  demand  for  the  book  has 
been  so  large  and  continuous  that  the  plates 
have  become  unfit  for  further  use.  Advan- 
tage is  taken  of  this  necessity  to  make  a 
thorough  revision  of  the  text,  and  to  add 
another  chapter  which  seemed  to  be  called 
for  by  the  plan  of  the  book. 

The  changes  consist  chiefly  in  the  re- 
moval of  local  and  temporary  allusions, 
modifications  of  emphasis  on  some  points, 
and  occasional  additions  in  the  main  line  of 
thought.  It  is  hoped  that  the  new  chapter 
—  Number  IX.  —  will  commend  itself  to  all 
as  a  fit  treatment  of  a  subject  that  could 


iv  NOTE  TO  REVISED  EDITION. 

hardly  be  passed  by.  At  the  Round  Table 
of  true  knighthood  the  seat  of  Sir  Galahad 
should  not  be  left  vacant. 

When  this  book  was  first  published,  the 
author  had  no  anticipation  of  the  large 
place  it  would  fill  in  so  many  lives  ;  and  he 
sends  forth  this  new  edition  with  feelings  of 
profound  gratitude  for  what  it  has  been 
permitted  to  accomplish,  and  with  the  ear- 
nest hope  that  it  may  continue  to  guide  and 
stimulate  the  young  men  of  our  country 
along  the  lines  of  true  living  and  noble 
manhood. 

NEW  HAVEN,  October  23, 1891. 


PREFACE. 


THE  object  of  this  little  book  is  to  put 
into  clear  form  some  of  the  main  principles 
that  enter  into  life  as  it  is  now  opening  be- 
fore young  men  in  this  country.  Its  sugges- 
tions are  more  specific  and  direct  than  if 
they  had  been  addressed  to  older  persons ; 
still,  I  have  aimed  to  support  every  point 
by  sound  reasons,  and  to  join  the  authority 
and  inspiration  of  the  greater  minds  with 
my  own  views.  I  think  I  may  assure  my 
readers  that  they  will  not  encounter  a  sim- 
ple mass  of  advice,  nor  the  generalities  of  an 
essay,  but  rather  a  series  of  hints  suitable  to 
the  times,  and  pointing  out  paths  that  are 
just  now  somewhat  obscured.  If  they  find 
some  pages  that  are  strenuous  in  their  sug- 
gestions, they  will  find  none  that  are  keyed 
to  impossible  standards  of  conduct,  or  filled 


2  PREFACE. 

with  moralizings  that  are  remote  from  the 
every-day  business  of  life. 

It  is  not  pleasant  to  play  the  role  of 
Polonius,  and  I  undertake  it  only  because 
Laertes  seems  to  be  quite  as  much  in  need 
of  advice  as  ever.  I  have  not,  however, 
written  out  of  a  critical  mood,  so  much  as 
from  a  desire  to  bring  young  men  face  to 
face  with  the  inspiring  influences  which,  in 
a  peculiar  degree,  surround  them.  The 
country  was  never  so  prosperous,  the  future 
never  so  full  of  happy  assurance,  as  it  is 
to-day.  To  point  out  the  way  of  reaping 
the  double  harvest  of  this  prosperity  and  a 
noble  manhood,  is  the  motive  that  underlies 
these  pages. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

I.  PURPOSE 5 

II.  FRIENDS  AND  COMPANIONS        ...        33 

III.  MANNERS 53 

IV.  THRIFT 77 

V.  SELF-RELIANCE  AND  COURAGE      .        .        .  101 

VI.  HEALTH 123 

VII.  READING 155 

VIII.   AMUSEMENTS r-       .        .        .  .      183 

IX.  PURITY 207 

X.  FAITH 227 


I. 

PURPOSE. 


"  I  long  hae  thought,  my  youthfu'  friend, 

A  something  to  have  sent  you, 
Tho'  it  should  serve  nae  ither  end 

Then  just  a  kind  memento ; 
But  how  the  subject  theme  may  gang, 

Let  time  and  chance  determine  ; 
Perhaps,  it  may  turn  out  a  sang, 
Perhaps,  turn  out  a  sermon." 

BURNS. 

"  Sow  an  act,  and  you  reap  a  habit ;  sow  a  habit,  and 
you  reap  a  character  ;  sow  a  character,  and  you  reap  a 
destiny."  —  ANON. 

"  So  teach  us  to  number  our  days  that  we  may  apply 
our  hearts  unto  wisdom. ' '  —  PSALM  XC. 

"  Youth  is  the  only  time 
To  think  and  to  decide  on  a  great  course ; 
Manhood  with  action  follows ;  but  't  is  dreary 
To  have  to  alter  our  whole  life  in  age  — 
The  time  past,  the  strength  gone. ' ' 

BROWNING. 

**  The  secret  of  success  is  constancy  to  purpose.'1 

BEACONSFIELD. 


I. 

PURPOSE. 

IN  entering  upon  this  series  of  essays,  or 
talks  with  young  men,  I  wish  to  have  it  un- 
derstood at  the  outset  that  I  do  not  under- 
take to  cover  or  even  touch  the  whole  truth 
of  the  subject  in  hand.  The  philosophical 
basis  and  the  religious  application  will  not 
be  much  regarded  ;  hence,  to  some  they  may 
seem  to  lack  profound  thought,  and  to  others 
moral  earnestness  ;  but  I  shall  not  mind  if 
I  can  lead  my  readers  to  think  seriously  of 
what  I  do  say.  If  I  speak  the  truth,  it  will 
have  enough  philosophy  in  it ;  if  it  is  care- 
fully heeded,  it  will  of  itself  grow  into  the 
moral  and  religious. 

I  begin  with  Purpose,  because  it  naturally 
underlies  the  themes  that  are  to  follow,  and 
also  because  it  is  a  matter  of  special  impor- 
tance. I  say  special,  because  I  think  that 
just  now  many  young  men  are  entering  life 
without  any  very  definite  purpose ;  as  some 


8  PURPOSE. 

one  has  put  it,  "  the  world  is  full  of  purpose- 
less people."  It  may  be  due  to  the  recur- 
ring phase  of  alternate  prosperity  and  de- 
pression in  our  social  life :  when  the  times 
are  prosperous  we  are  not  driven  to  a  pur- 
pose ;  when  they  are  depressed,  the  openings 
are  few  and  little  freedom  of  choice  is  left. 
It  is  also  due  to  the  fact  that,  during  the 
previous  years,  large  and  sudden  accumula- 
tions of  property  were  made  by  people  not 
accustomed  to  its  use.  The  consciousness  of 
wealth  is  always  dangerous.  When  a  young 
man  comes  to  feel  that  because  his  father 
has  wealth  he  has  no  need  of  personal  exer- 
tion, he  is  doomed.  Only  the  rarest  natural 
gifts  and  the  most  exceptional  training  can 
save  the  sons  of  the  rich  from  failure  of  the 
true  ends  of  life.  They  may  escape  vice  and 
attain  to  respectability,  but  for  the  most 
part  they  are  hurt  in  some  degree  or  respect. 
The  possession  of  wealth  in  the  latter  part 
of  life,  after  one  has  earned  or  become  pre- 
pared for  it,  may  be  not  only  not  injurious, 
but  healthful,  though  one  ought  to  be  able 
to  live  a  high  and  happy  life  without  it. 
But  anything  which  lessens  in  a  young  man 
the  feeling  that  he  is  to  make  his  own  way 
in  the  world  is  hurtful  to  the  last  degree. 


PURPOSE.  9 

As  the  result  of  these  two  causes,  —  with 
others,  doubtless,  —  young  men  of  the  pres- 
ent years,  as  a  class,  are  not  facing  life  with 
that  resolute  and  definite  purpose  which  is 
essential  both  to  manhood  and  to  external 
success.  There  is  far  less  of  this  early 
measurement  and  laying  hold  of  life  with 
some  definite  intent  than  there  was  a  gen- 
eration ago.  Young  men  do  not  so  mucF~ 
choose  to  go  to  college  as  suffer  themselves 
to  be  sent.  They  do  not  push  their  way\ 
into  callings,  but  allow  themselves  to  be  led 
into  them.  Indeed,  the  sacred  word  calling 
seems  to  have  lost  its  meaning ;  they  hear 
no  voice  summoning  them  to  the  appointed 
field,  but  drift  into  this  or  that  as  happens. 
They  appear  to  be  waiting,  to  be  floating 
with  the  current  instead  of  rowing  up  the 
stream  toward  the  hills  where  lie  the  trea- 
sures of  life.  I  mean,  of  course,  that  this 
seems  to  be  the  drift,  not  that  it  is  a  delib- 
erate purpose. 

My  object  is   to  interrupt  this  tendencjA 
—  to  induce  you  to  aim  at  a  far  end  rather 
than  a  near  one ;  to  live  under  a  purpose  I 
rather  than  under  impulse  ;  to  set  aside  the  f 
thought  of  enjoyment,  and  get  to  thinking  of 
attainment;   to  conceive  of   life  as  a  race/ 
instead  of  a  drift. 


10  PURPOSE. 

Men  may  be  divided  in  many  ways,  but 
there  is  no  clearer  cut  division  than  that 
between  those  who  have  a  purpose  and  those 
who  are  without  one.  It  is  the  character 
of  the  purpose  that  at  last  determines  the 
character  of  the  man,  —  for  a  purpose  may 
be  good  or  bad,  high  or  low.  It  is  the 
strength  and  definiteness  of  the  purpose  that 
determines  the  measure  of  success. 

It  is  one  of  the  gracious  features  of  our 
nature  that  we  are  capable  of  forming  high 
and  noble  purposes.  The  mind  overleaps 
its  ignorance,  and  fixes  upon  what  is  wisest 
and  best.  A  child  is  always  planning  noble 
things  before  its  "  life  fades  into  the  light  of 
common  day."  There  may  not  always  be 
congruity  in  these  early  ambitions,  but  they 
are  nearly  always  noble.  A  friend  of  mine 
set  out  in  life  with  the  complex  purpose  of 
becoming  "  a  great  man,  a  good  man,  and 
a  stage-driver."  He  has  not  yet  achieved 
greatness,  and  I  doubt  if  he  has  ever  held  a 
four-in-hand  or  knows  what  tandem  means, 
except  in  its  Latin  sense;  but  he  has  not 
failed  in  the  other  part,  being  a  worthy 
clergyman  presiding  over  a  church  with  a 
dignity  and  wisdom  which  are  the  proper 
outcome  of  his  early  conceptions.  The 


PURPOSE.  11 

weaker  element  naturally  passed  away,  and 
the  nobler  one  took  up  his  expanding  powers. 

Nor  does  this  distinction  divide  men  ac- 
cording to  good  and  bad  ;  for  while  an  aim- 
less man  cannot  be  said  to  be  good,  he  may 
cherish  a  very  definite  aim  without  ranking 
among  the  virtuous.  Few  men  ever  held  to 
a  purpose  more  steadily  than  Warren  Has- 
tings, having  for  the  dream  and  sole  motive 
of  his  youth  and  manhood  to  regain  the  lost 
estates  and  social  position  of  his  family; 
but  he  can  hardly  be  classed  among  good 
men.  He  is,  however,  a  fine  example  of  how 
a  clearly  conceived  purpose  strengthens  and 
inspires  a  man.  The  career  of  Beaconsfield 
—  one  of  the  most  brilliant  figures  among 
modern  English  statesmen — is  another  il- 
lustration of  how  a  definite  purpose  carries 
a  man  on  to  its  fulfillment.  When  the 
young  Jew  was  laughed  and  jeered  into 
silence  in  his  first  attempt  to  address  the 
House  of  Commons,  he  remarked,  "The 
time  will  come  when  you  will  hear  me ; " 
speaking  not  out  of  any  pettishness  of  the 
moment,  but  from  a  settled  purpose  to  lead 
his  compeers.  The  rebuff  but  whetted  the 
edge  of  his  already  keen  ambition. 

I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  a  purpose,  if 


12  PURPOSE. 

cherished  with  sufficient  energy,  will  always 
carry  a  man  to  its  goal,  —  for  every  man 
has  his  limitations,  —  but  rather  that  it  is 
sure  to  carry  him  on  toward  some  kind  of 
success;  often  it  proves  greater  than  that 
aimed  at.  Shakespeare  went  down  to  Lon- 
don to  retrieve  his  fortune,  —  a  very  laud- 
able purpose ;  but  the  ardor  with  which  he 
sought  it  unwittingly  ended  in  the  greatest 
achievements  of  the  human  intellect.  Saul 
determined  to  crush  out  Christianity  ;  but 
the  energy  of  his  purpose  was  diverted  to 
the  opposite  and  immeasurably  nobler  end. 
It  would  be  absurd  for  me  to  assure  you 
that  if  you  aim  and  strive  with  sufficient 
energy  to  become  great  statesmen,  or  the 
heads  of  corporations,  or  famous  poets  or 
artists,  or  for  any  other  specific  high  end, 
you  will  certainly  reach  it.  For  though 
there  are  certain  rich  prizes  that  any  man 
may  win  who  will  pay  the  price,  there  are 
others  that  are  reserved  for  the  few  who  are 
peculiarly  fortunate  or  have  peculiar  claims. 
The  Providence  which,  blindly  to  us,  en- 
dows and  strangely  leads,  apportions  the 
great  honors  of  life  ;  but  Providence  has 
nothing  good  or  high  in  store  for  one  who 
does  not  resolutely  aim  at  something  high 


PURPOSE.  13 

and  good.  A  purpose  is  the  eternal  condi- 
tion of  success.  Nothing  will  take  its  place. 
Talent  will  not;  nothing  is  more  common 
than  unsuccessful  men  of  talent.  Genius 
will  not ;  unrewarded  genius  is  a  proverb  ; 
the  "  mute,  inglorious  Milton  "  is  not  a 
poetic  creation.  The  chance  of  events,  the 
push  of  circumstances,  will  not.  The  nat- 
ural unfolding  of  faculties  will  not.  Edu- 
cation will  not ;  the  country  is  full  of  un- 
successful educated  men ;  indeed,  it  is  a 
problem  of  society  what  to  do  with  the 
young  men  it  is  turning  out  of  its  colleges 
and  professional  schools.  There  is  no  road' 
to  success  but  through  a  clear,  strong  pur- 
pose. Purpose  underlies  character,  culture, 
position,  —  attainment  of  whatever  sort. 
Shakespeare  says :  "  Some  achieve  great- 
ness, and  some  have  greatness  thrust  upon 
them ; "  but  the  latter  is  external,  and  not 
to  be  accounted  as  success. 

It  is  worth  while  to  look  injto  the  reasons 
of  the  matter  a  little. 

1.  A  purpose,  steadily  held,  trains  the 
faculties  into  strength  and  aptness. 

The  first  main  thing  a  man  has  to  do  in 
this  world  is  to  turn  his  possibilities  into 
powers,  or  to  get  the  use  of  himself.  Here 


14  PURPOSE. 

t  S*Ti 

we  are,  packed  full  of  faculties,  —  physical, 
mental,  moral,  social,  —  with  almost  no  in- 
stincts, and  therefore  no  natural  use  of 
them ;  a  veritable  box  of  tools,  ready  for 
use.  Think  what  a  capability  is  lodged  in 
the  hand  of  the  pianist  or  of  the  physician, 
—  fairly  seeing  with  his  fingers.  Or  take 
the  mechanical  eye,  instantly  seizing  propor- 
tions ;  or  the  ear  of  the  musician ;  or  the 
mind  bending  itself  to  mathematical  prob- 
lems, or  grouping  wide  arrays  of  facts  for 
1 1  ~  induction,  —  the  e very-day  work  of  the  pro- 
l^  fessional  man,  the  merchant,  and  the  manu- 
facturer. How  to  use  these  tools  —  how  to 
get  the  faculties  at  work  —  is  the  main  ques- 
tion. The  answer  is,  steady  use  under  a 
main  purpose. 

CThe  call  to-day  is  not  only  for  educated, 
but  for  trained  men.  The  next  mightiest 
event  that  daily  happens  in  this  world  of 
ours,  after  the  sunrise,  —  that  "  daily  mira- 
cle," as  Edjyin  Arnold  calls  it,  —  is  the 
publication  of  such  a  newspaper  as  the 
"  New  York  Tribune  "  or  "  London  Times." 
If  it  were  possible  to  send  to  Mars  or 
Jupiter  a  single  illustration  of  our  highest 
achievements,  it  should  be  a  copy  of  a  great 
Daily.  I  think  nothing  finer  could  be 


PURPOSE.  15 

brought  back.  But  what  produces  this 
superb  and  gigantic  achievement  three  hun- 
dred and  more  times  a  year  ?  Not  learning, 
talent,  energy,  nor  money,  but  training. 
From  the  editor-in-chief,  with  his  frequent 
leaders,  —  broad,  compact,  trenchant,  — 
and  the  manager,  bringing  together  the 
various  departments  in  just  proportion  and 
harmony,  so  that  the  paper  goes  from  the 
press  almost  like  the  solar  system  in  its 
adjusted  balance,  down  to  the  folding  and 
distributing  departments,  the  work  through- 
out is  done  by  men  trained  to  their  specific 
tasks  by  steady  and  sympathetic  habit. 

Every  man's  work  should  be  both  an  in- 
spiration and  a  trade ;  that  is,  he  should 
love  it,  and  he  should  have  that  facility  in  it 
which  comes  from  use.  It  is  said  that  Na- 
poleon could  go  through  the  manual  of  the 
common  soldier  better  than  any  man  in  his 
armies.  He  would  not  have  been  the  great- 
est general  had  he  not  been  the  best  soldier ; 
his  genius  would  have  been  weak  without  the 
support  of  the  drill  and  the  practical  know- 
ledge of  all  military  details.  So  of  railroad- 
ing, now  one  of  the  great  callings ;  it  has 
become  a  nearly  universal  custom  that  every 
higher  position  shall  be  filled  from  below  by 


16  PURPOSE. 

promotion,  according  to  excellence,  and  this 
excellence  turns  upon  two  points :  an  intelli- 
gent and  sympathetic  interest  in  the  work, 
and  consequent  handiness  in  it.  One  cannot 
look  over  a  company  of  railroad  men  without 
perceiving  that  those  highest  up  have  the 
most  head  for  the  entire  business.  I  have 
noticed,  in  looking  at  machinery,  that  the 
proprietor  can  explain  it  better  than  the 
workman  who  operates  it. 

All  lines  of  business  are  conducted  more 
and  more  upon  the  principle  of  promotion. 
\   Less  and  less  do  men  step  from  one  occupa- 
^tion  to  another.     The  demand  is  for  trained 
men.     But  life  is  too  short  and  the  standards 
are  too  severe  for  various  trainings.     Seldom 
is  one  found  who  has  thoroughly  fitted  him- 
self for  diverse  pursuits.     Our  aptitudes  are 
not  many.     Pick  out  the  successful  man  in 
almost  any  occupation,  and   nearly  without 
exception  he  will  have  been  trained  to  it. 
/     2.  Life  is  cumulative  in  all  ways.  A  steady 
I  purpose  is  "like  a  river,  that  gathers  volume 
and  momentum  by  flowing  on.     The  success-' 
ful  man  is  not  one  who  can  do  many  things 
indifferently,  but   one   thing   in  a  superior 
manner.     Versatility  is  overpraised.     There 
is  a  certain  value  in  having  many  strings  to 


PURPOSE  17 

one's  bow,  but  there  is  more  value  in  having 
a  bow  and  a  string,  a  hand  and  an  eye,  that 
will  every  time  send  the  arrow  into  the  bull's- 
eye  of  the  target.  The  world  is  full  of  vaga- 
bonds who  can  turn  their  hands  to  anything. 
The  man  who  does  odd  jobs  is  not  the  one 
who  gets  far  up  in  any  job.  The  factotum 
is  a  convenience,  but  he  is  seldom  a  success. 
The  machinist  who  works  in  anywhere  is  not 
the  one  who  is  put  to  the  nicest  work.  A 
certain  concentration  is  essential  to  excel- 
lence, except  in  rare  cases  like  Leonardo  da 
Vinci,  and  Pascal,  and  Aristotle,  and  Frank- 
lin, whose  natures  were  so  broad  as  to  cover 
all  studies  and  pursuits.  One  of  the  most 
extensive  wool-buyers  in  the  world  says  that 
his  success  is  due  to  the  fact  that  his  father 
and  grandfather  handled  wool,  that  his  own 
earliest  recollections  were  of  handling  wool, 
and  that  he  has  kept  on  handling  it.  The 
largest  manufacturer  of  paper  in  the  country 
is  the  son  of  a  paper-maker,  born  and  bred  to 
all  the  details  of  the  business.  There  are, 
indeed,  many  cases  of  large  success  where 
men  have  passed  from  one  pursuit  to  another, 
but  in  most  you  will  find  a  certain  unity 
running  through  their  various  occupations. 
One  may  begin  a  stone-cutter  and  end  a  ge- 


18  PURPOSE. 

ologist,  like  Hugh  Miller,  or  a  sculptor,  like 
Powers ;  or  as  a  machinist,  and  turn  out  an 
inventor ;  or  as  a  printer,  and  become  a  pub- 
lisher. A  strong  definite  purpose  is  many- 
handed,  and  lays  hold  of  whatever  is  near 
that  can  serve  it ;  it  has  a  magnetic  power 
that  draws  to  itself  whatever  is  kindred. 
3.  A  purpose,  by  holding  one  down  to 

/  some  steady  pursuit  and  legitimate  occupa- 
tion, wars  against  the  tendency  to  engage  in 

I  ventures  and  speculations.  The  devil  of  the 
business  world  is  chance.  Chance  is  chaotic ; 
it  belongs  to  the  period 

"  When  eldest  Night 
And  Chaos,  ancestors  of  Nature,  held 
Eternal  anarchy  amidst  the  noise 
Of  endless  wars,  and  by  confusion  stood." 

It  is  opposed  in  nature  to  order  and  law ;  it  is 
the  abdication  of  reason,  the  enthronement  of 
guess.  The  chance  element  in  business  is  not 
only  demoralizing  to  the  man,  but  in  the  long 
run  it  is  disastrous  to  his  fortunes.  And  if 
it  yields  a  temporary  success,  it  is  a  success 
unearned,  and  therefore  unappreciated;  for 
we  must  put  something  of  thought  and  gen- 
uine effort  into  an  enterprise  before  we  can 
get  any  substantial  good  out  of  it.  The  de- 
falcations, the  shoddy  of  society,  the  diamonds 


PURPOSE.  19 

gleaming  on  unwashed  hands,  the  ignorance 
that  looks  through  plate-glass,  and  no  small 
part  of  the  crime  that  looks  through  iron 
bars,  are  the  creations  of  the  chance  or  spec- 
ulative element  in  business.  No  good  ever 
comes  from  it.  If  it  lifts  a  man  up,  it  is 
only  to  dash  him  to  the  earth.  In  Califor- 
nia they  aptly  call  it  "  playing  with  the  ti- 
ger," and  the  game  always  ends  by  the  tiger 
eating  the  man.  The  chances  in  the  stock 
market  are  less  than  in  Chinese  gambling, 
at  which  the  Caucasian  affects  to  laugh; 
but  the  Mongolian  plays  to  better  purpose 
with  his  one  chance  in  ten  than  does  the 
other  in  the  ever-recurring  bonanza.  Few 
of  the  Forty-niners  died  rich,  but  almost 
every  one  at  some  time  held  a  fortune  in  his 
hands.  Their  speculations  are  very  like  their 
smelting  of  quicksilver,  —  going  up  an  ex- 
pansive vapor,  but  trickling  back  solid  into  a 
single  reservoir.  If  there  is  one  purpose  a 
young  man  needs  to  hold  to  rigidly  and 
without  exception,  it  is  to  keep  to  legitimate 
methods  of  business.  Don't  abjure  your  rea- 
son by  appealing  to  chance,  nor  insult  order 
by  taking  up  that  which  "  by  confusion 
stands."  A  steady  purpose  embodied  in  a 
substantial  pursuit  shuts  out  these  chance 


20  PURPOSE. 

forms  of  business.  Question  the  men  of  sub- 
stantial character  and  fortune,  and  you  will 
find  that  they  have  avoided  the  illegitimate 
in  business,  and  have  held  fast  to  some 
steady  line  of  pursuit,  —  busy  in  prosperous 
times,  and  patiently  waiting  in  hard  times. 
The  recurring  periods  of  commercial  depres- 
sion witness  a  bravery  and  sagacity  worthy 
of  highest  admiration,  —  men  conducting 
business  year  after  year  without  profit  or  at 
a  loss,  keeping  up  their  relations  with  the 
business  world,  carrying  along  their  em- 
ployees, exercising  forbearance  with  less  for- 
tunate creditors,  nursing  the  dull  embers 
of  their  unremunerative  business  instead  of 
petulantly  suffering  them  to  go  out.  Former 
years  have  shown  us  the  heroism  of  war  ;  but 
these  periods  reveal  the  heroism  of  peace. 
When  these  brave,  patient  waiters  upon  for- 
tune reap  their  reward,  those  who  gave  up 
and  turned  to  this  and  that  will  be  found 
out  of  the  ranks  of  the  great  army  of  pros- 
perity. 

It  may  seem  from  what  I  have  said  that 
I  would  advise  young  men  to  concentrate 
their  entire  energies  upon  a  pursuit,  and  for- 
get all  else.  But  I  am  far  from  doing  that. 

The  most  fundamental  mistake  men  make 


PURPOSE.  21 

is  in  not  recognizing  the  breadth  of  their 
nature,  and  a  consequent  working  of  some 
single  part  of  it.  One  must  give  play  to 
his  whole  nature  and  fill  out  all  his  relations,) 
or  he  will  have  a  poor  ending.  He  must 
heed  the  social,  domestic,  and  religious  ele- 
ments of  his  being,  as  well  as  the  single  one 
that  yields  him  a  fortune.  These  should 
be  embraced  under  a  purpose  as  clear  and 
strong  as  that  which  leads  to  wealth,  and  be 
cherished,  not  out  of  a  bare  sense  of  duty, 
but  for  manly  completeness.  The  most  piti- 
able sight  one  ever  sees  is  a  young  man 
doing  nothing ;  the  furies  early  drag  him  to 
his  doom.  Hardly  less  pitiable  is  a  young 
man  doing  but  one  thing,  —  his  whole  being 
centred  on  money  or  fame,  —  forgetful  of  the 
broad  world  of  intellectual  capacity  within 
him,  of  the  broader  and  sweeter  world  of 
social  and  domestic  life,  and  of  the  infinite 
world  of  the  spirit  that  enspheres  him  and 
holds  his  destinies,  whether  he  knows  it  or 
not.  It  is  not  only  quite  possible,  but  an 
easy  and  natural  thing  for  a  young  man 
fronting  life  to  say,  I  will  make  the  most  of 
myself ;  I  will  recognize  my  whole  nature ; 
I  will  neglect  no  duty  that  belongs  to  all 
men ;  I  will  carry  along  with  an  even  and 


22  PURPOSE. 

just  hand  those  relations  that  make  up  a 
full  manhood. 

f  I  find  four  general  purposes  that  should 
enter  into  the  plan  of  every  man's  life  as 
essential  to  its  completeness.  Hereafter  I 
shall  speak  more  definitely ;  now  only  of 
fundamental  or  leading  purposes. 

1.  A  young  man  should  have  an  employ- 
ment congenial,  if  possible,  and  as  near  as 
may  be  to  the  line  of  pursuit  he  intends  to 
follow.  I  have  anticipated  much  that  might 
be  said  here.  The  choice  of  a  profession  or 
occupation  is  a  hard  one  to  handle  practically 
or  speculatively.  So  many  are  forced  into 
work,  and  take  that  nearest  at  hand ;  so 
many  drift  into  an  occupation  because  the 
time  has  come;  so  many  are  set  to  work 
too  early  for  choice,  that  few  seem  left  who 
can  make  a  careful  selection.  It  is  a  sad 
thing  that  any  should  be  defrauded  of  this 
natural  prerogative.  It  may  be  quite  right 
to  train  a  boy  to  a  calling,  but  never  to  the 
exclusion  of  his  personal  choice ;  if  for  the 
ministry,  and  he  deliberately  prefers  to  be- 
come a  machinist,  or  a  farmer,  or  an  editor, 
it  must  be  suffered.  A  call,  or  calling,  is 
a  divine  thing,  and  must  be  obeyed.  Pitt 
was  trained  from  his  earliest  years  for  the 


PURPOSE.  23 

place  he  filled,  but  for  the  most  part  great 
men  have  chosen  for  themselves.  But  one 
should  settle  the  matter  only  after  very 
thorough  consideration.  Dr.  Bushnell  once 
said  to  a  young  man  who  was  consulting  him 
on  this  point,  "  Grasp  the  handle  of  your 
being/'  —  a  most  significant  and  profound 
piece  of  advice.  There  is  in  every  one  a 
taste  or  fitness  that  is  as  a  handle  or  lever 
to  the  faculties  ;  if  one  gets  hold  of  it,  he 
can  work  the  entire  machinery  of  his  being 
to  the  best  advantage.  Before  committing 
one's  self  to  a  pursuit,  one  should  make  a 
very  thorough  exploration  of  himself,  and 
get  down  to  the  core  of  his  being.  The 
fabric  of  one V  life  should  rest  upon  the  cen- 
tral and  abiding  qualities  of  one's  nature, 
—  else  it  will  not  stand.  Hence  a  choice 
should  be  based  on  what  is  within  rather 
than  be  drawn  from  without.  Choose  your 
employment  because  you  like  it,  and  not 
because  it  has  some  external  promise.  The 
"  good  opening  "  is  in  the  man,  — not  in  cir- 
cumstances. An  ill-adaptation  will  nullify 
any  good  promise,  while  aptitude  creates 
success.  All  true  life  and  good  fortune  are 
from  within.  God  so  made  the  world  and 
all  things  in  it ;  "  seed  within  itself "  is  the 


24  PURPOSE. 

eternal  law.  I  do  not  mean  that  every 
boy  has  an  inborn  taste  for  some  specific 
work,  —  type-setting,  or  mining,  or  editing. 
Aptitudes  are  generic  ;  if  one  follows  his 
general  taste,  he  will  probably  succeed  in 
several  kindred  pursuits.  While  we  cannot 
well  go  contrary  to  nature,  there  is  a  certain 
play  and  oscillation  of  our  faculties,  as  of 
the  planets  that  yet  keep  to  the  appointed 
journey.  The  mechanical  eye  covers  a  large 
variety  of  employments.  A  spirit  of  minis- 
tration is  fundamental  to  at  least  two  of  the 
great  professions.  One  of  an  intensely  re- 
flective disposition  should  not  make  existence 
a  long  battle  by  binding  himself  to  a  life  of 
external  activity ;  and  many  a  man  pines  and 
shrivels  in  the  study  who  would  exult  in  a 
life  upon  the  soil.  But  having  got  into  some 
occupation  or  line  of  pursuit  that  is  fairly 
congenial,  running  in  the  direction  of  your 
inmost  taste  and  aptitude,  hold  fast  to  it. 
If  it  is  altogether  distasteful  after  fair  trial, 
throw  it  aside,  and  start  again.  No  one  can 
row  against  the  stream  all  his  life  and  make 
a  success  of  it.  It  is  fundamental  that  there 
should  be  in  the  main  accord  between  the 
man  and  his  work.  I  do  not  mean  that  one 
is  absolutely  to  do  the  same  thing  —  shove 


PURPOSE.  25 

the  plane,  beat  the  anvil,  tend  the  loom, 
measure  land,  sell  goods  —  to  the  end,  but 
that  he  should  continue  in  the  same  general 
department,  thus  utilizing  previous  aptness 
and  experience.  The  work  first  undertaken 
may  be  too  restricting  ;  one  should  be  al- 
ways looking  for  its  higher  forms.  One  may 
climb  by  a  steady  purpose  as  well  as  by  a 
persistent  iteration  of  the  same  thing,  but 
it  must  be  in  a  related  field  of  effort.  Suc- 
cessful life  is  commonly  of  one  piece ;  and 
it  comes  of  intelligent  purpose,  never  by 
chance. 

2.  Having  thus  settled  into  some  fair  linei 
of  pursuit,  the  next  main  purpose  should  be  1 
to  get  a  home  of  one's,  own.    "Every  young  I 
man  expects' to  marry ,,and  this  expectation 
ought  to  carry  with  it  the  definite  thought 
of  a  home,  —  a  thing  not  realized  under  any 
boarding  or  renting  system. 

I  put  this  among  the  fundamental  pur- 
poses simply  because  it  is  such.  Character,* 
happiness,  destiny,  tllTfl  m  **a  *pq-l™*S™» 
It  is  the  main  safeguard  against  immorality. 
It  is  essential  to  a  development  of  the  whole 
nature.  It  is  the  chief  source  of  sound  and 
abiding  happiness.  It  is  the  surest  defense 
against  evil  fortune.  When  once  a  home 


26  PURPOSE. 

has  been  secured,  abject  poverty  rarely  fol- 
lows. Man  is  like  the  animals  in  that  his 
first  need  is  a  place  in  which  to  hide  his 
head.  Indeed,  a  home  sums  up  life;  outside 
of  it  life  is  meagre  and  partial.  In  the 
home  every  worthy  purpose  finds  realization. 
It  is  the  objective  point  in  existence, — 
a  home  here  and  a  home  beyond.  Hence  it 
should  not  only  mingle  in^  one's  dreams  las 
among  the  probabilities,  but  should  enter  in 
among  the  distinct  purposes.  "  A  home  of 
my  own,"  —  no  phrase  of  English  words  is 
so  sweet  as  that.  A  bit  of  ground  where  you 
can  plant  a  rose  and  hope  to  pluck  its  blos- 
soms as  the  summers  come  and  go ;  a  roof 
that  shall  be  your  shelter  for  tender  depen- 
dents ;  a  spot  of  earth  and  a  house  owned, 
and  so  ministering  to  that  deep  call  for  a 
resting  place  natural  to  us  all;  a  home  to 
hold  those  we  most  love  while  they  live,  and 
to  enshrine  their  memory  when  they  are 
gone;  the  goal  of  labors,  the  sanctuary  of 
the  affections,  the  gateway  into  and  out  of 
the  world,  —  a  thing  so  central  and  large  as 
this  should  enter  into  one's  plans  with  sharp 
and  strong  purpose. 

3.  Another  central  purpose  should  be  to 
become  a  good  citizen.     This  is  not  so  trite  a 


PURPOSE.  27 

point  as  it  may  seem.  The  moralizing  on 
our  relation  to  government  that  abounds  in 
literature  and  common  speech  chiefly  refers 
to  subjects  rather  than  to  citizens.  Obedi- 
ence and  loyalty  are  old  virtues  ;  citizenship 
is  comparatively  a  new  thing,  of  which  we 
have  yet  hardly  a  full  conception.  To  obey 
as  subjects  is  a  duty  well  understood ;  to 
govern  as  citizens  is  a  complex  act,  involving 
the  two  duties  of  obedience  and  ruling. 
The  Sovereign  People  is  a  vast  and  signifi- 
cant phrase.  If  we  were  to  speculate  upon 
it,  we  should  find  that  it  involves  the  high- 
est function  of  man;  for  man  reaches  the 
perfection  of  his  nature  when  obedience  and 
sway  are  perfectly  coordinated,  —  that  is, 
when  he  has  learned  to  obey  and  to  rule, 
doing  each  perfectly.  To  overcome  and  sit 
in  an  eternal  throne  is  the  highest  glimpse 
of  revealed  destiny.  It  is  something  very 
grand  and  inspiring  —  if  we  will  think  of  it 
—  that  our  country  puts  upon  us  as  citizens 
this  sum  and  end  of  all  duties  ;  that  citizen- 
ship is  in  the  direct  line  of  eternal  destiny. 
It  is  an  adjustment  of  the  political  and  the 
spiritual  that  marks  the  coming  of  the  king- 
dom of  heaven.  One  of  the  thoughts  to 
which  a  young  man  should  school  himself  is 


28  PURPOSE. 

that  he  is  an  actual  part  of  the  government. 
Good  citizenship  thus  becomes  an  inalien- 
able duty,  an  obligation  springing  from  the 
nature  of  things.  When  one  is  so  related 
to  the  state,  he  cannot  see  a  law  broken,  or 
a  public  trust  abused,  or  an  office  perverted, 
without  a  sense  of  personal  wrong.  The 
great  Louis  said,  "  I  am  France,"  but  every 
American  citizen  can  say,  "  I  am  the  state.'' 
By  good  citizenship  I  do  not  mean  necessa- 
rily a  mingling  in  what  is  technically  named 
politics,  though  one  must  not  hold  one's  self 
aloof  from  its  details,  but  rather  that  the 
public  welfare  should  weigh  steadily  on 
every  man's  heart  and  conscience ;  as  it 
was  the  duty  of  every  Roman  to  "  see  to  it 
that  no  harm  came  to  the  republic." 

I  place  good  citizenship  among  the  fun- 
damental aims,  because  it  represents  a  feel- 
ing that  is  central  to  character.  One  cannot 
avoid  it  without  self -in  jury.  It  leaves  a 
man  exposed  to  the  absorption  of  his  private 
business,  and  so  to  that  selfishness  and  nar- 
rowness which  come  from  a  limited  range  of 
interests.  Exclusive  devotion  to  the  home 
makes  one  weak ;  to  business,  selfish.  A 
hearty  and  practical  interest  in  the  state 
alone  can  make  one  strong  and  large. 


PURPOSE.  29 

4.  After  one  has  well  settled  himself  in 
these  three  main  relations,  —  employment, 
home,  country,  —  all  other  general  purposes 
may  be  summed  up  in  the  one  word  culture  ; 
or  as  this  is  a  somewhat  derided  and  over- 
used  word  at  present,  I  will  put  it  otherwise : 
resolve  to  make  the  most  of  yourself.  Still 
that  word  culture  is  the  best.  Cu]J^aie 
yourself ;  I  do  not  mean  in  the  sense  of  put- 
ting "on  a  finish,  but  of  feeding  the  roots 
of  your  being,  strengthening  your  capaci- 
ties, nourishing  whatever  is  good,  repress- 
ing whatever  is  bad.  Determine  that  not 
a  power  shall  go  to  waste  ;  that  every  fac- 
ulty shall  do  its  utmost  and  reach  its  high- 
est. I  say  to  you  with  all  carefulness,  the 
noblest  sight  this  world  offers  is  a  young 
man  bent  upon  making  the  most  of  himself. 
Alas  that  so  many  seem  not  to  care  what 
they  become  ;  men  in  stature,  but  not  yet 
born  into  the  world  of  purpose  and  attain- 
ment, babes  in  their  comprehension  of  life  ! 
A  cigar,  a  horse,  a  flirtation,  a  suit  of  clothes, 
a  carouse,  a  low  play  or  dance,  and  just 
enough  work  to  attain  such  things,  or  got 
without  work,  —  how  the  spirits  of  the  wise, 
sitting  in  the  clouds,  laugh  at  them !  What 
an  introduction  to  manhood  and  manly 


30  PURPOSE. 

duties !  One  cannot  thus  start  in  life,  and 
make  himself  master  of  it,  or  get  any 
real  good  out  of  it.  A  part  of  his  folly 
may  ooze  out  as  the  burdens  of  life  press 
on  him,  and  necessity  may  drive  him  to 
sober  labor,  but  he  will  halt  and  stumble 
to  the  end.  It  is  a  sad  thing  to  begin  life 
with  low  conceptions  of  it.  There  is  no 
misfortune  comparable  to  a  youth  without 
a  sense  of  nobility.  Better  be  born  blind 
than  not  see  the  glory  of  life.  It  is  not, 
indeed,  possible  for  a  young  man  to  measure 
life,  but  it  is  possible  to  cherish  that  lofty 
and  sacred  enthusiasm  which  the  dawn  of 
life  awakens.  It  is  possible  to  say,  —  I  am 
resolved  to  put  life  to  its  noblest  and  best 
use. 

If  I  could  get  the  ear  of  every  young  man 
for  but  one  word,  it  would  be  this  :  Make 
the  most  and  the  best  of  yourself.  There  is 
no  tragedy  like  wasted  life,  life  failing  of 
its  end,  life  turned  to  a  false  end. 

The  true  way  to  begin  life  is  not  to  look 
off  upon  it  to  see  what  it  offers,  but  to  take 
a  good  look  at  self.  Find  out  what  you  are, 
how  you  are  made  up,  your  capacities  and 
lacks,  and  then  determine  to  get  the  most 
out  of  yourself  possible.  Your  faculties  are 


PURPOSE.  31 

avenues  between  the  good  of  the  world  and 
yourself  ;  the  larger  and  more  open  they 
are,  the  more  of  it  you  will  get.  Your  ob- 
ject should  be  to  get  all  the  riches  and 
sweetness  of  life  into  yourself ;  the  method 
is  through  trained  faculties.  You  find  your- 
self a  mind  :  teach  it  to  think,  to  work 
broadly  and  steadily,  to  serve  your  needs 
pliantly  and  faithfully.  You  find  in  your- 
self social  capacities :  make  yourself  the  best 
citizen,  the  best  friend  and  neighbor,  the 
kindest  son  and  brother,  the  truest  husband 
and  father.  Whatever  you  are  capable  of 
in  these  directions,  that  be  and  do.  Let 
nothing  within  you  go  to  waste.  You  also 
find  in  yourself  moral  and  religious  facul- 
ties. Beware  lest  you  suffer  them  to  lie 
dormant,  or  but  summon  them  to  brief  peri- 
odic activity.  No  man  can  make  the  most 
of  himself  who  fails  to  train  this  side  of  his  j 
nature.  Deepen  and  clarify  your  sense  of 
God.  Gratify  by  perpetual  use  the  inborn 
desire  for  communion  with  Him.  Listen 
PYfirrn™^  to  p/wiB/nAnnA.  Keep  the  heart  soft 
and  responsive  to  all  sorrow.  Love  with 
all  love's  divine  nnpacit^and^uality^  And 
above  all  let  your  nature  stretch  itself  to- 
wards that  sense  of  infinity  that  comes  with 


32  PURPOSE. 

\~7 

the  thought  of  God.  There  is  nothing  that 
so  deepens  and  amplifies  the  nature  as  the 
use  of  it  in  moral  and  spiritual  ways.  One 
cannot  make  the  most  of  one's  self  who 
leaves  it  out. 

If  these  general  purposes  are  resolutely 
followed,  they  are  sure  to  yield  as  much  of 
success  as  is  possible  in  each  given  case. 

A  pursuit  followed  in  its  main  drift  ;  a 
home  to  contain  the  life  ;  good  citizenship 
as  the  sum  of  public  duties ;  culture,  or 
making  the  most  of  one's  self,  as  the  sum 
of  personal  and  religious  duties,  —  these  are 
the  four  winds  of  inspiration  that  should 
blow  through  the  heart  of  a  young  man  ; 
these  are  the  foundations  of  that  city  of 
character  and  destiny  which,  when  built, 
lies  four-square,  —  Work,  Home,  Humanity, 
and  Self,  as  made  in  the  image  of  God  and 
for  God. 


II. 

FBIENDS  AND  COMPANIONS. 


"  God  divided  man  into  men  that  they  might  help  each 
other."  —  SENECA. 

"  A  man  that  hath  friends  must  show  himself  friendly." 
—  SOLOMON. 

"  A  talent  is  perfected  in  solitude ;  a  character  in  the 
stream  of  the  world.' '  —  GOETHE. 

"  Live  with  wolves,  and  you  will  learn  to  howl."  — 
SPANISH  PROVERB. 

"  Although  unconscious  of  the  pleasing  charm, 
The  mind  still  bends  where  friendship  points  the  way ; 

Let  virtue  then  thy  partner's  bosom  warm, 
Lest  vice  should  lead  thy  softened  soul  astray." 

THEOGNis,/row  Xenophon. 

"  Beyond  all  wealth,  honor,  or  even  health,  is  the  at- 
tachment we  form  to  noble  souls ;  because  to  become  one 
with  the  good,  generous  and  true,  is  to  become  in  a  mea- 
sure good,  generous,  and  true  ourselves."  —  DR.  ARNOLD. 


/7 


II. 

FRIENDS   AND   COMPANIONS. 

WITHOUT  doubt,  home  and  companions 
are  the  chief  external  influences  that  de- 
termine character.  One  is  almost  always 
good,  because  it  is  charged  with  divine  in- 
stincts ;  the  other  is  uncertain  in  its  char- 
acter, because  it  springs  out  of  the  chances 
of  the  world.  The  main  feature  of  the  home 
is  love  which  "  worketh  no  ill ;  "  hence  its 
natural  influence  is  favorable  to  good  char- 
acter. Parents  for  the  most  part  inculcate 
truth,  purity,  honesty,  and  kindness.  With 
abundant  allowance  for  mistake  and  neglect, 
the  influence  of  parents  and  brother  and  sis- 
ter is  good,  but  outside  of  the  home  there  is 
no  such  certainty. 

When  John  bids  father  and  mother  good- 
by  amongst  the  Berkshire  hills,  and  goes  to 
Boston  or  New  York  to  make  his  way  in  the 
world,  his  future  depends  with  almost  math- 
ematical certainty  upon  the  character  of  his 


36  FRIENDS  AND   COMPANIONS. 

associates.  He  may  have  good  principles 
and  high  purposes ;  tender  words  of  advice 
are  in  his  ears  ;  his  Bible  lies  next  his 
heart,  and  love  follows  him  with  unceasing 
prayers ;  but  John  will  do  well  or  ill  as  he 
falls  among  good  or  bad  companions.  Ed- 
ucation, ingrafted  principles  and  tastes,  re- 
membered love,  ambition,  conscience,  —  all 
these  will  do  much  for  him,  but  they  will 
not  avail  against  this  later  influence. 

There  are  many  turning-points  when  the 
question  of  success  or  failure  is  decided  again 
and  again.  Life  is  a  campaign,  in  which  a 
series  of  fortresses  are  to  be  taken ;  all  pre- 
vious victories  and  advances  may  be  thrown 
away  by  failure  in  the  next.  Nearly  the  last 
of  these  is  companionship ;  if  one  Avins  the 
victory  here,  the  reward  of  a  prosperous 
manhood  is  within  his  reach. 

At  the  risk  of  logically  inverting  my  sub- 
ject, I  will  speak  first  of  friendship  ;  and  I 
must  beg  your  patience  while  I  put  a  foun- 
dation under  my  suggestions. 

If  there  were  but  one  general  truth  that  I 
could  lodge  in  the  mind  of  any  one  or  of  all 
men,  it  would  be  this  :  that  true  life  consists 
in  the  fulfillment  of  relations.  We  are  born 
into  relations  ;  we  never  get  out  of  them ;  all 


FRIENDS  AND   COMPANIONS.  37 

duty  consists  in  meeting  them.  The  family, 
the  church,  the  state,  humanity  at  large,  — 
these  are  the  sources  of  our  primary  and 
abiding  duties,  as  well  as  of  our  happiness, 
—  the  sum-total  of  ethics  and  religion. 

The  relation  of  friends,  though  not  so 
sharply  defined  as  that  of  the  family  or  the 
state,  is  as  real  and  as  essential  to  a  full  life. 
Emerson  says  :  "  Maugre  all  the  selfishness 
that  chills  like  east  winds  the  world,  the 
whole  human  family  is  bathed  with  an  ele- 
ment of  love  like  a  fine  ether."  To  get  this 
ensphering  love  into  form  and  expression,  is 
the  office  of  friendship.  Bacon  goes  so  far 
as  to  say  that  "  a  principal  fruit  of  friend- 
ship is  the  ease  and  discharge  of  the  full- 
ness of  the  heart."  He  goes  on  in  his  noble 
and  wise  way  to  name  its  other  points,  and 
nothing  on  the  subject  is  better  than  his 
threefold  statement  of  its  uses :  "  Peace  in 
the  affections,  support  of  the  judgment,  and 
bearing  a  part  in  all  actions  and  occasions." 

It  is  not  enough  to  love  only  our  own 
family.  Love  is  a  great  and  wide  passion, 
demanding  various  food  and  broad  fields 
to  range  in.  When  one  is  only  "a  family 
man  "  he  may  have  a  sound  nature,  but  it 
will  not  be  a  large  or  generous  one  ;  and  he 


88  FRIENDS  AND   COMPANIONS. 

will  shrink  rather  than  expand  with  years, 
and  sink  into  the  inevitable  sadness  that 
attends  old  age. 

Nor  is  Bacon's  second  point  of  less  impor- 
tance, —  to  aid  one's  judgment.  Advice 
can  hardly  come  from  any  other  than  a 
friend  when  the  question  involves  grave  is- 
sues. (A  stranger  is  not  sufficiently  inter- 
ested, a  relative  is  blinded  by  excess  of  love, 
but  a  friend's  advice  is  tempered  by  affec- 
tion^ while  it  is  not  overruled  by  the  im- 
perativeness of  natural  instinct.  There  is 
much  wisdom  in  the  every-day  words,  4V 
a  friend  I  advise  you,"  for  no  other  can  ad- 
vise so  well.} 

Bacon's  third  point  —  friends  as  helpers 
on  all  occasions  —  does  not  have  its  full 
weight  until  we  learn  the  late  lesson  that 
man  is  not  equal  to  life.  There  is  more  to 
do  than  one  can  do  alone,  and  an  unfriended 
life  will  be  poor  and  meagre.  It  is  an  old 
saying  that  "  a  friend  is  another  self."  If, 
as  a  mere  matter  of  strength  and  resource, 
I  were  to  face  life  with  the  choice  of  either 
a  fortune  or  friends,  I  should  be  wiser  to 
choose  the  latter  as  more  helpful.  Of 
course  I  regard  friendship  as  a  real  and 
abiding  thing,  and  not  as  that  other  thing 


FRIENDS  AND   COMPANIONS.  39 

that  comes  and  goes  with  fortune.  I  have 
no  faith  in  the  miserable  notions  that  the 
poor  are  friendless  because  they  are  poor, 
and  that  friends  desert  on  the  approach  of 
poverty.  Poverty  may  winnow  the  false 
from  the  true,  but  it  does  not  destroy  the 
wheat.  The  poor  may  be  friendless,  and 
even  poor  because  they  are  friendless,  never 
having  won  friends.  This  fine  relation  does 
not  turn  upon  poverty,  but  upon  disposition, 
or  temper,  or  the  chances  of  life.  Happy 
is  he  who  wins  friends  in  early  life  by  true 
affinities !  He  multiplies  himself ;  he  has 
more  hands  and  feet  than  his  own,  and 
other  fortresses  to  flee  into  when  his  own 
are  dismantled  by  evil  fortune,  and  other 
hearts  to  throb  with  his  joy. 

Friendship  is  of  such  a  nature  that  it  is 
difficult  to  name  rules  for  it ;  it  is  its  own 
law  and  method.  So  ethereal  a  thing  can- 
not be  brought  under  choice  or  rule.  It  is 
rather  a  matter  of  destiny.  If  one  is  born 
to  have  friends,  he  will  have  them.  Emer- 
son says  that  one  need  not  seek  for  friends  ; 
they  come  of  themselves.  But  Solomon 
goes  deeper  in  his  proverb  :  "  A  man  that 
hath  friends  must  show  himself  friendly." 
Let  one  offer  to  the  world  a  large,  generous, 


40  FRIENDS  AND  COMPANIONS. 

true,  sympathetic  nature,  and,  rich  or  poor, 
he  will  have  friends,  and  he  will  never  be 
friendless  whatever  catastrophes  befall  him. 
Not  as  given  rules,  but  rather  touching*  the 
matter  in  the  way  of  suggestion,  I  will  name 
a  few  points  that  it  is  well  to  think  of :  — 

1.  Cultivate  the  friendly  spirit.     If  one 
would  have  friends  he   must  be  worthy  of 
them.     The  bright  plumage  and  the  songs 
of   birds   are  designed  to  win  their  mates. 
It  is  in  vain  for  one  to  say,  I  want  friends ; 
I  will  go  seek  them.      Go  within,  rather, 
and  establish  yourself  in  friendly  sympathy 
with  your  fellow-men ;    learn  to  love ;   get 
the  helpful  spirit,  and  above  all  the  respon- 
sive temper,  and  friends  will  come  to  you  as 
birds  fly  to  their  beautiful  singing  mates. 

2.  Make  friends   early  in   life,  else  you 
will   never   have    them.      Youth    is    often 
moody,  and  keeps  by  itself.     The  very  in- 
tensity with  which  it  wakes  up  to  individ- 
uality drives,  it   into   solitariness,  where  it 
morbidly    feasts   on   the    wonderful  fact  of 
selfhood.     There  is  danger  also  lest  we  be 
caught  by  entertaining  companions  instead 
of  winning  congenial  friends,  and  so  start 
in  life  with  a  set  of  mere  associates.     It  is 
in  the  earliest  part  of  our  threescore  and 


FRIENDS  AND  COMPANIONS.  41 

ten  that  life-long  friends  are  made.  Agree- 
able associations  may  be  formed  later,  and 
now  and  then  a  friendship  when  there  is 
great  congeniality  and  freshness  of  spirit ; 
but  friendship  is  a  union  and  mingling,  a 
shaping  of  plastic  substances  to  each  other 
that  cannot  be  effected  after  the  mould  of 
life  has  hardened.  We  may  touch  here- 
after, but  not  mingle. 

3.  Hold  fast  to  your  friends.     It  is  one 
of  the  commonest  regrets  in  after-life  that 
early  friendships  were  not  kept  up.    Change 
of  residence,  neglect  of  correspondence  or  of 
holiday  courtesies,  some  divergence  of  taste 
or  belief  or  outward  condition,  —  for  some 
such  cause  a  true  friendship  is  often  suffered 
to  languish  and  die  out.     Shakespeare  well 
says : — 

' '  I  count  myself  in  nothing-  else  so  happy 
As  in  a  soul  reinemb'ring  my  good  friends.1' 

And  again  in  "  Hamlet : "  — 

**  The  friends  thou  hast,  and  their  adoption  tried, 
Grapple  them  to  thy  soul  with  hoops  of  steel." 

4.  Make  a  point  of  having  friends  among 
your  elders.     Friendship  between  those   of 
the  same  age  is  sweeter,  but  friendship  with 
elders  is  more  useful ;  they  supplement  each 


42  FRIENDS  AND   COMPANIONS. 

other.  One  is  the  wine  of  life ;  the  other 
is  its  food.  The  latter  balances  life,  and 
brings  the  good  of  all  periods  down  into 
one.  It  is  one  of  the  divinest  features  of 
human  life  that  in  this  way  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  solitary  youth  or  solitary  age. 
Youth  may  get  the  value,  if  not  the  reality, 
of  the  wisdom  of  age,  and  age  keep  forever 
young.  Theology  and  poetry  assert  eternal 
youth;  it  is  neither  a  dogma  of  one  nor  a 
dream  of  the  other,  but  a  logical  realization 
of  human  sympathy  and  love.  It  is  one  of 
the  mistakes  in  American  society  that  the 
young  people  draw  off  into  a  society  of  their 
own.  There  is  not  only  a  strong  flavor  of 
vulgarity  in  it,  but  positive  loss  on  both 
sides. 

5.  Avoid  having  many  confidants.  It  is 
weak ;  it  breeds  trouble.  Secrets  are  not 
in  themselves  good  things,  but  when  of  ne- 
cessity they  exist  their  nature  should  be 
respected.  Having  them,  it  is  well  to  keep 
them.  Avoid  also  the  effusive  habit.  It  is 
pitiable  to  see  a  man  pouring  himself  out 
into  every  listening  ear,  —  mind  and  heart 
inverted,  the  girdle  of  selfhood  thrown  aside, 
and  all  the  secret  ways  of  the  being  laid 
open  for  the  common  foot.  It  is  a  violation 


FRIENDS  AND   COMPANIONS.  43 

of  identity,  a  squandering  of  personality. 
The  secretive  temper  is  to  be  criticised,  but 
it  is  not  so  fatal  to  character  and  dignity  as 
its  opposite.  There  may  be  times  when  one 
must  speak  all  one's  thought  and  emotion,  — 
self  is  too  small  to  hold  the  joy  or  grief; 
but,  having  done  it,  get  back  into  your  cita- 
del of  selfhood.  We  never  quite  respect 
the  man  who  tells  us  everything.  Take  your 
friends  into  your  heart,  but  not  into  your 
heart  of  hearts ;  reserve  that  for  yourself 
and  God. 

6.  Avoid  absorbing  and  exclusive  friend- 
ships. They  are  not  wise  ;  they  are  selfish,  (  ' 
and  not  of  the  nature  of  true  friendship, 
forming  a  sort  of  common  selfhood  that  is 
but  a  double  selfishness.  They  commonly 
breed  trouble,  and  end  in  quarrel  and  heart- 
break. 

This  matter  of  friendship  is  often  regarded 
slightingly,  as  a  mere  accessory  of  life,  a 
happy  chance  if  one  falls  into  it,  but  not 
as  entering  into  the  substance  of  life.  No 
mistake  could  be  greater.  It  is  not,  as 
Emerson  says,  a  thing  of  "  glass  threads  or 
frost-work,  but  the  solidest  thing  we  know." 
"  There  is  in  friendship  "  —  as  Evelyn  writes 
in  the  "  Life  of  Mrs.  Godolphin  "  —  "  some- 


44  FRIENDS  AND   COMPANIONS. 

thing  of  all  relations  and  something  above 
them  all.  It  is  the  golden  thread  that  ties 
the  hearts  of  all  the  world." 

It  is  not  pleasant  to  touch  such  a  subject 
on  its  utilitarian  side,  still  it  is  well  to  know 
that  it  is  one  of  the  largest  factors  of  suc- 
cess not  only  in  the  social,  but  also  in  the 
commercial  and  political  worlds.  Many  a 
merchant  is  carried  through  a  crisis  by  his 
friends  when  the  strict  laws  of  business  would 
have  dropped  him  into  ruin.  It  was  Lin- 
coln's immeasurable  capacity  for  friendship 
that  made  his  splendid  career  possible.  It  is 
no  idle  thing.  Happiness,  success,  character, 
largely  turn  upon  it.  I  shall  know  more  of 
a  man  from  knowing  his  friendships,  than  I 
can  gain  from  any  other  single  source.  Tell 
me  if  they  are  few  or  many,  good  or  bad, 
warm  or  indifferent,  and  I  will  give  you  a 
reliable  measure  of  the  man. 

Companionship  logically  goes  before 
friendship,  but  I  put  it  last,  as  the  larger 
and  more  important  relation  for  you  to  con- 
sider. One  shapes  itself  by  a  law  of  affinity ; 
the  other  is  made.  Choose  your  companions 
wisely,  and  your  friendships  will  come  about 
naturally. 

Young  men  are  often  told  that  conceit  and 


FRIENDS  AND   COMPANIONS.  45 

willfulness  are  their  most  marked  qualities. 
I  do  not  believe  it.  Their  largest  capability 
is  that  of  inspiration.  They  do  not  readily 
take  advice ;  they  resent  scolding,  and  ut- 
terly rebel  against  force,  but  they  yield  with 
the  certainty  of  gravitation  to  personal  in- 
fluence. Through  this  capability  all  good 
and  evil  get  into  us.  Youth  is  its  period. 
Then  heart  and  mind  are  open  for  all  winds 
to  blow  through,  — "  airs  from  heaven  or 
blasts  from  hell."  A  great  part  of  the  ad- 
vantage of  a  college  course  is  the  contact 
for  four  years  with  a  set  of  men  who  are 
scholars  and  gentlemen.  It  is  impossible  to 
overestimate  the  inspiring  influence  of  con- 
tact with  such  men  as  those  college  Presi- 
dents, now  passed  away,  Woolsey  and  Hop- 
kins and  Wayland.  "The  strongest  influ- 
ence I  took  away  from  Yale,"  said  an  able 
graduate,  "  was  the  spirit  of  the  president." 
"  Something  in  President  Hopkins's  letter 
drew  me  to  Williams,"  said  Garfield.  The 
healthiest  influence  at  work  to-day  in  Eng- 
lish society  runs  back  to  Dr.  Arnold,  of 
Rugby.  He  made  the  men  who  are  now 
making  England.  Dean  Stanley  says  of 
him,  "  His  very  presence  seemed  to  create  a 
new  spring  of  health  and  vigor  within  them, 


46  FRIENDS  AND   COMPANIONS. 

and  to  give  to  life  an  interest  and  elevation 
which  dwelt  so  habitually  in  their  thoughts 
as  a  living  image,  that,  when  death  had 
taken  him  away,  the  bond  appeared  to  be 
still  unbroken,  and  the  sense  of  separation 
almost  lost  in  the  still  deeper  sense  of  a  life 
and  a  union  indestructible."  It  is  often 
hard  to  tell  where  the  good  that  is  in  us 
comes  from,  but  most  of  it  is  inspired,  — 
caught  by  contact  with  the  good.  "  It  is 
astonishing,"  says  Mozley,  "  how  much  good 
goodness  makes."  Old  John  Brown  said, 
"  For  a  settler  in  a  new  country,  one  good 
believing  man  is  worth  a  thousand  without 
character,"  It  is  not  the  teaching  of  the 
pulpit  nor  of  the  schools,  but  the  men  who 
walk  up  and  down  the  streets,  that  deter- 
mine the  character  of  a  community.  If  the 
leaders  of  society  are  not  noble,  no  drill  of 
teaching  nor  pungency  of  exhortation  will 
arouse  high  thoughts  in  the  young. 

I  hesitate  to  touch  the  subject  more  closely, 
because  it  takes  us  into  a  field  where  it  is 
nearly  impossible  to  say  anything  that  is 
not  trite ;  but  if  the  subject  does  not  admit 
of  originality,  it  admits  of  earnestness.  I 
ask  you  to  look  well  to  this  matter  of  com- 
panions. Evil  influences  are  not  resistible ; 


FRIENDS  AND   COMPANIONS.  47 

they  may  not  always  overcome,  but  they 
inevitably  hurt. 

For  the  sake  of  distinctness,  let  us  put  the 
matter  into  the  form  of  rules. 

Resolutely  avoid  all  companionship  that 
falls  below  your  taste  and  standard  of  right. 
If  it  offends  you,  reject  it  with  instant  deci- 
sion ;  a  second  look  is  dangerous.  The  wise 
lines  of  Pope  cannot  be  quoted  too  often :  — 

"  Vice  is  a  monster  of  so  frightful  mien, 
As,  to  be  hated,  needs  but  to  be  seen ; 
Yet  seen  too  oft,  familiar  with  her  face, 
We  first  endure,  then  pity,  then  embrace." 

Familiarity  with  evil,  the  familiarity  of 
contact  or  intimate  knowledge,  never  ceases 
to  be  dangerous  to  any  one.  It  is  the  glory 
and  perfection  of  female  virtue  that  it  does 
not  know  evil.  The  difficulty  in  securing  an 
honest  and  decent  police  is  due  to  their  close 
contact  with  vice  and  crime.  It  is  not  in 
human  nature  to  endure  such  contact  and 
remain  pure.  Whenever  you  meet  a  person 
whose  knowledge  of  evil  ways  is  full  and 
close  and  exact,  you  may  be  sure  he  is  not 
sound  at  heart.  Such  knowledge  is  not 
knowledge,  for  knowledge  pertains  to  order. 
A  philosopher  in  chaos  would  have  no  voca- 
tion. If  an  associate  swears,  or  lies,  or 


48  FRIENDS  AND   COMPANIONS. 

drinks,  or  gambles  ;  if  he  is  tricky,  or  las- 
civious, or  vile  in  his  talk ;  if  his  thoughts 
easily  run  to  baseness,  put  a  wide  space  be- 
tween him  and  yourself ;  give  room  for  the 
pure  winds  of  heaven  to  blow  between  you. 
But  a  closer  distinction  is  to  be  made.  Get 
at  the  temper  of  your  associate  ;  or,  in  your 
own  sensible  phrase,  find  out  the  kind  of  a 
fellow  he  is,  before  you  make  a  friend  of 
him.  On  the  first  show  of  meanness  or  lack 
of  honor,  let  him  go.  If  he  is  without  a  high 
ambition,  beware  of  him.  If  his  thoughts 
run  strongly  to  some  one  thing,  like  money, 
or  dress,  or  society,  or  popularity,  he  can  do 
little  for  you.  If  he  is  cruel  or  negligent  of 
duty  to  his  family,  if  he  is  quick  to  take  un- 
due advantage,  if  he  is  penurious,  if  he  scoffs 
at  religion,  if  he  derides  the  good,  if  he  is 
skeptical  of  virtue,  if  he  is  scornful  of  good 
custom,  you  cannot  afford  to  class  yourself 
with  him. 

But  one  cannot  always  choose  his  asso- 
ciates. I  do  not  forget  how  many  of  you 
are  thrown  together  in  the  same  office,  or 
store,  or  shop,  or  mill  or  class.  But  this 
does  not  necessitate  intimate  and  sympa- 
thetic relations.  Here  is  where  you  are  to 
choose,  and  stand  firm  in  your  choice.  The 


FRIENDS  AND   COMPANIONS.  49 

attitude  of  a  mean  or  bad  man  is,  Come  to 
my  level  if  you  would  be  my  friend ;  and 
he  is  right.  Companionship  must  be  on  a 
level  morally,  though  it  need  not  be  intel- 
lectually. An  ignorant  person  may  be  a 
harmless  and  even  pleasant  friend.  Sam 
Lawson,  in  Mrs.  Stowe's  u  Oldtown  Folks," 
was  a  very  good  companion  for  man  or  boy, 
despite  his  general  good  -  for  -  nothingness. 
Men  may  associate,  and  waive  almost  all 
other  differences  but  that  of  character.  The 
moral  line  reaches  up  to  heaven  and  down 
into  eternal  depths.  It  cannot  be  passed 
and  repassed.  If  you  make  companions  of 
the  bad,  you  will  end  in  being  bad.  "  Live 
with  wolves,"  says  the  Spanish  proverb, 
"  and  you  will  learn  to  howl."  It  is  the 
beginning  of  a  tragedy  sad  beyond  thought 
when  a  young  man  enters  a  set  of  a  lower 
moral  tone  than  his  own,  —  the  set  that 
drinks  a  little,  and  gambles  a  little,  and 
discusses  female  frailty  a  little ;  some  of 
whom  take  a  little  from  their  employers  on 
the  score  of  a  small  salary,  and  drink  a 
little  more  than  the  rest  on  the  ground  of 
a  steadier  head,  and  affect  a  little  deeper 
knowledge  of  the  world,  and  lie  with  less 
hesitation,  and  scoff  with  a  louder  accent ;  — 


50  FRIENDS  AND   COMPANIONS. 

it  is  not  a  pleasant  sight  to  see  a  young 
man  cast  by  chance,  or  drawn  by  persua- 
sion, into  such  a  set  as  this.  Superiority  of 
mind  is  not  proof  against  it.  It  was  the 
wild  smuggler  boys  of  Kirkoswald  who  led 
Burns  astray. 

It  is  one  of  the  worst  features  of  modern 
society  that  such  sets  as  these  are  every- 
where taking  an  actual  organization,  with 
membership  and  rooms  and  fees.  Society, 
from  top  to  bottom,  is  running  to  clubs.  It 
is  a  matter  not  easily  disposed  of,  —  having 
a  good  and  a  bad  side.  In  a  complex 
state  of  society,  such  forms  of  social  life 
will  spring  up.  But  when  the  clubs  are 
organized  on  a  basis  of  dissipation,  however 
mild  and  however  veiled,  there  is  little 
question  as  to  their  influence.  They  destroy 
more  than  moral  principles ;  they  wreck 
manhood  and  health  and  high  purpose  and 
self-respect.  A  young  man  may  enter  such  a 
club,  but  no  man  comes  out  of  it ;  manhood 
evaporates  under  this  organized  pressure 
of  inanity  and  vice,  and  leaves  something 
fitter  to  creep  than  to  walk,  —  "  beastly 
transformations,"  who 

kt  Nor  once  perceive  their  foul  disfigurement, 
But  boast  themselves  more  comely  than  before." 


FRIENDS  AND   COMPANIONS.  51 

But  let  us  get  over  to  the  positive  and 
better  side  of  our  subject.  I  make  as  a 
last  suggestion  that  you  associate  as  much 
as  possible  with  persons  of  true  worth  and 
nobility  of  character.  The  main  use  of  a 
great  man  is  to  inspire  others.  There  is  a 
truth  parallel  to  the  doctrine  of  Apostolic 
Succession  through  the  laying  on  of  hands, 
which,  to  my  mind,  is  better  than  the  doc- 
trine. The  succession  of  all  high  and  noble 
life  is  through  personality.  Seek  always 
the  superior  man.  If  you  are  already  in  a 
calling,  get  among  those  who  excel  in  it. 
Every  professional  man  will  tell  you  that  he 
cannot  associate  with  one  of  low  grade  in 
his  calling  without  injury,  nor  with  one  high 
up  without  fresh  stimulus.  It  is  well  to 
get  near  men  of  reputed  energy  and  worth. 
The  fascination  that  draws  us  to  the  great 
is  deep  and  divine ;  it  is  a  call  to  share  their 
greatness,  the  divine  way  of  distributing  it 
to  all.  Get  close  to  men  of  energy,  and  see 
how  they  work,  —  to  men  of  thought,  and 
catch  their  spirit  and  method  ;  get  near  the 
refined  and  cultivated  in  mind  and  man- 
ners, and  feel  their  charm.  The  most  trans- 
forming influence  upon  a  young  man  is  that 
of  a  noble,  intelligent,  refined  woman ;  not 


52  FRIENDS  AND   COMPANIONS. 

one  who  may  become  his  wife,  but  one  older 
and  out  of  all  such  question.  The  friend- 
ship of  such  a  woman,  Steele  says,  is  equal 
to  a  liberal  education. 

But  if  you  are  cut  off  from  this  world  of 
inspiring  influence,  if  those  about  you  are 
dry  and  dull  and  commonplace,  seek  the 
companionship  you  need  in  books  ;  fellow- 
ship with  the  great  spirits  of  history  ;  clream 
with  the  poets ;  think  with  the  philosophers  ; 
exult  with  martyrs;  triumph  with  heroes; 
overcome  with  saints,  v^ndeed,  books  are 
among  the  best  of  companions ;  but  of  that 
hereafter. 


in. 

MANNERS. 


"Manners  are  the  shadows  of  virtue."  —  SYDNEY 
SMITH. 

"High  thoughts  seated  in  a  heart  of  courtesy."  — 
SIDNEY. 

"The  compliments  and  ceremonies  of  our  hreeding 
should  recall,  —  however  remotely,  the  grandeur  of  our 
destiny."  —  EMERSON. 

"Love  as  brethren,  he  pitiful,  he  courteous." — ST. 
PAUL. 

"  Who  misses  or  who  wins  the  prize  ? 

Go,  lose  or  conquer  as  you  can ; 
But  if  you  fail,  or  if  you  rise, 

Be  each,  pray  God,  a  gentleman." 

THACKERAY. 

"  How  sweet  and  gracious,  even  in  common  speech, 
Is  that  fine  sense  which  men  call  Courtesy ! 
Wholesome  as  air  and  genial  as  the  light, 
Welcome  in  every  clime  as  hreath  of  flowers,  — 
It  transmutes  aliens  into  trusting  friends, 
And  gives  its  owner  passport  round  the  globe." 

J.  T.  FIELDS. 

"  The  appellation  of  gentleman  is  never  to  be  affixed 
to  a  man's  circumstances,  but  to  his  behavior  in  them. 
For  this  reason  I  shall  ever,  as  far  as  I  am  able,  give  my 
nephews  such  impressions  as  shall  make  them  value 
themselves  rather  as  they  are  useful  to  others,  than  as 
they  are  conscious  of  merit  in  themselves."  —  THE  TAT- 
LER,  No.  207. 


III 

MANNERS. 

PERHAPS  there  is  no  better  starting-point 
in  this  subject  than  the  one  most  remote 
from  its  real  centre,  —  our  national  manners. 
The  foreign  critics  tell  us  that  we  are  rap- 
idly improving  in  our  behavior  ;  we  are  too 
conscious  of  the  need  to  resent  the  patroniz- 
ing comment,  and  eagerly  wait  for  the  sure 
coming  of  that  type  of  manners  —  higher 
than  has  yet  been  realized  —  when  our  in- 
stitutions have  fully  ripened  the  character  of 
the  people. 

In  the  externals  of  behavior  we  are  in  j 
advance  of  the  last  generation.  The  im-i 
mense  development  in  taste  and  art  that 
has  come  about  through  foreign  travel  and 
world-expositions  has  a  corresponding  de- 
velopment in  manners.  Uncouthness  of 
dress,  roughness  of  speech,  arid  the  general 
barbarity  of  manners  that  once  prevailed  in 
large  sections  of  the  country  have  largely 


56  MANNERS. 

passed  away.  The  salutations,  respect  for 
another's  personality,  the  care  of  the  person, 
the  tones  of  the  voice,  and  the  use  of  lan- 
guage, —  all  are  better  than  they  were.  Is 
there  also  an  improvement  in  feeling  and  mu- 
tual relation  ?  The  external,  in  the  main,  is^ 
indicative  of  what  is  within.  Great  masses 
of  people  are  not  hypocrites.  The  kindlier 
address  shows  a  kipder  spirit  and  a  truer 
The  deference  of  a  cen- 


""tary  ago  was  the  offspring  of  aristocracy  ; 

\     that,  indeed,  has  passed  away  with  the  dy- 

\    ing  out  of  its  source.     But  if  we  no  longer 

bow  down  before  our  fellows,  we  entertain 

for  them   a  morel  rational  respect^    To  go 

a  little  closer  Tnto  the  matter,  the  niasses_ 

have^  greatly  improved  in  manners,but  the 

class  which  used  to  be  regarded  as  aristo- 

___  •  _ 

cratic  and  especially  well-bred  has  deterio- 
,.  rated,  as  was  to  be  expected^  The~with- 
drawal  of  the  deference  of  the  Tower  classes, 
I  as  our  institutions  began  to  be  felt,  threw 
it  into  confusion.  The  old-time  aristocrat 
—  and  a  noble  figure  he  was  —  is  con- 
sciously out  of  place  and  relations  ;  his  man- 
ners suffer  in  consequence,  and  now,  like 
Portia's  English  suitor,  he  "gets  his  behar 
vior  everywhere." 


MANNERS.  57 

But  we  must  not  infer  that  we  are  yet  a 
people  of   refined  manners.     Dr.  Bushnell, 
s  ago,  said  that  emigration  tended 


to   barbarism.     We   are   a   nation   ot  emi- 
grants  ;  the  greater  part  ofn^iofTwoTiun-^ 
dred  years,  have  lived  in  the  woods,  and  the 
shadows  of   primeval  forests  still  overhang 
us.     There  must  be  more  intelligence,  more 
culture,    a  more  evenly  distributed  wealth, 
a  denser  population,  and  a  fuller  realization     r 
of^our  national    idea,   which  is    also    thV  ||/t 
Christian   idea,  —  personality,  —  before  we 
can   claim   to   be   a   welCBred   people.     In 
Europe,  the  good  manners  of  the  great  per- 
colate   down    to   the   masses.      One   conse- 
quently hears  and  sees  there  a  delicacy  of 
behavior  and  gentleness  of  address  not  com- 
mon here.     It  is,  however,  largely  external 
and  a  matter   of  imitation.     We  have  few 
such  outstanding  examples,  and  whatever  of 
attainment   we   have    is    genuine  and  from 
within.     We  are  destined  to  see  on  this  con-^H      .  ; 
tinent  a  form  of   manners  more  genuinely   /          / 
refined   and    noble  than  the  world  has  yet   \     <J  *  " 
known.     Just  now  we  are  in  an  open  place 
between  the  going  out  of  aristocratic  or  f  eu-  __ 
dal  habits"  and  ways  and  the  coming  in  of  _____ 
a  culture   and  behavior  based  oneguality 


58  MANNERS. 

and  mutual  respect.  It  must  be  confessed 
that  we  lack  conspicuous  examples  of  the 
kind  of  gentleman  that^is  to  be  looked  I 
for  in  this  country.  jWashington  was  un- 
doubtedly a  very  true  and  noble  gentleman  ; 
ibut  he  was  not  the  American  gentlemanof^ 
jbhe  future,  being  essentially  English./  With 
certain  abatements  and  additions  in  minor  re- 
spects, Lincoln  must  be  regarded  as  coming 
nearer  our  true  type.  Lowell  was  our  best 
representative  of  high  culture  combined 
with  democratic  sentiment,  and  he  well  met 
the  ideal  of  the  gentleman  we  are  to  look 
forTJ~~ 

But  let  us  get  nearer  our  subject.  Every 
young  man  desires  above  all  else  to  be  re- 
garded as  a  gentleman.  None  of  us  can 
bear  any  other  imputation.  You  may  ac- 
cuse one  of  violating  the  entire  decalogue 
with  less  offense  than  if  you  tell  him  he  is 
not  a  gentleman.  Here'is  something  very 
deep  and  weighty.  What  is  this  that  so 
outweighs  every  other  good  word  and  esti- 
mate ?  So  fine  a  thing  necessarily  has  many 
counterfeits ;  and  so  we  will  search  it  with 
definitions. 

The  word  undoubtedly  comes  from  the 
Latin  gens,  meaning  tribe  or  family.  Hence 


MANNERS.  59 

all  the  one-sided  and  incomplete  notions 
that  a  gentleman  is  a  man  of  family.  It  is 
a  good  thing  to  be  well  born,  with  inher- 
ited tastes  and  traditions  ;  but  birth  does 
not  make  the  gentleman.  Once  dependent 
upon  birth,  he  is  so  no  longer.  Julius  Hare, 
himself  a  fine  illustration  of  his  definition, 
says :  "  A  gentleman  should  be  gentle  in 
everything  ;  at  least  in  everything  that  de- 
pends upon  himself,  —  in  carriage,  temper, 
construction,  aims,  desires.  He  ought,  there- 
fore, to  be  mild,  calm,  quiet,  temperate  ; 
not  hasty  in  judgment,  not  exorbitant  in 
ambition,  not  overbearing,  not  proud,  not 
rapacious,  not  oppressive."  Kuskin  makes 
the  leading  traits  of  a  gentleman  to  be  fine- 
ness, sensitiveness,  and  sympathy,  each  in- 
volving the  other.  /  Frofessor^\Lieber,|  who 
has  written  on  the  subject  in  a  manly  way, 
says  :  "  The  word  gentleman  signifies  that 
character  which  is  distinguished  by  strict 
honor,  self-possession,  forbearance,  generous 
as  well  as  refined  feelings,  and  polished  de- 
portment, —  a  character  to  which  all  mean- 
ness, explosive  irritability,  and  peevish  fret- 
fulness  are  alien;  to  which,  consequently, 
a  generous  candor,  scrupulous  veracity  and 
essential  truthfulness,  courage,  both  moral 


60  MANNERS. 

and  physical,  dignity  and  self-respect,  liber- 
ality in  thought,  argument,  and  conduct  are 
habitual,  and  have  become  natural.  It  im- 
plies also  refinement  of  feelings  and  lofti- 
ness of  conduct  to  the  dictates  of  morality 
and  the  precepts  of  religion  ;  " —  a  long,  hard 
sentence,  but  well  worth  our  study.  Mr. 
jCalvert  pays :  "  The  gentleman  is  never  un- 
duly familiar ;  takes  no  liberties  ;  is  chary 
of  questions  ;  is  neither  artificial  nor  af- 
fected ;  is  as  little  obtrusive  upon  the  mind 
or  feelings  of  others  as  on  their  persons ; 
bears  himself  tenderly  towards  the  weak  and 
unprotected  ;  is  not  arrogant ;  cannot  be 
supercilious  ;  can  be  self  -  denying  without 
struggle ;  is  not  vain  of  his  advantages,  ex- 
trinsic or  personal ;  habitually  subordinates 
his  lower  to  his  higher  self ;  is,  in  his  best 
condition,  electric  with  truth,  buoyant  with 
veracity."  Mr.  Emerson,  who  writes  on  the 
theme  with  keenest  inward  sympathy,  as 
well  as  discrimination,  says :  "  The  gentle- 
man is  a  man  of  truth,  lord  of  his  own 
actions,  and  expressing  that  lordship  in  his 
behavior  ;  not  in  any  manner  dependent  and 
servile  either  on  persons,  or  opinions,  or 
possessions.  Beyond  this  fact  of  truth  and 
real  force,  the  word  denotes  good  nature 


MANNERS.  61 

or  benevolence,  —  manhood  first,  and  then 

gentleness."     Sk_Fhilip_Sirlnoy ...  •  himsnlf 

the  ideal  gentleman  —  put  the  whole  matter 

«-  "  Jr  _ 

into  one  pregnant  phrase ;  " High^ou|lits_ 
seated  in  a  heart  of  courtesy. "J/You  will 
notice  that  in  these  conceptions  of  a  gentle- 
man the  moral  element  predominates ;  not 
family,  nor  station,  nor  manners,  but  qual- 
ities. They  do,  indeed,  take  on  and  draw 
after  them  external  forms,  for  the  in  and 
the  out  must  at  last  be  alike  ;  but  the  essen- 
tial condition,  that  which  makes  one  a  gen- 
tleman, is  moral  qualities. 

Following  this  unanimous  hint,  we  will  try 
to  get  these  qualities  into  some  order. 

1.  Truth.  One  who  well  knew  described 
a  perfect  man  as  one  who  "  speaketh  the 
truth  in  his  heart,"  —  inward  truthfulness, 
outward  veracity ;  this  goes  before  all  else 
in  making  up  the  gentleman.  Calvert  says : 
"  A  gentleman  may  brush  his  own  shoes  or 
clothes,  or  mend  or  make  them,  or  roughen 
his  hands  with  the  helve,  or  foul  them  with 
dye-work  or  iron-work ;  but  he  must  not 
foul  his  mouth  with  a  lie."  A  lie  makes 
relations  impossible.  When  two  persons 
meet,  there  can  be  no  true  conversation  un- 
less it  is  thoroughly  understood  that  each 


62  MANNERS. 

is  himself  :  I  am  I,  and  you  are  you ;  I  say 
what  is  true,  and  I  believe  that  you  say 
what  is  true.  This  is  the  foundation  of  all 
human  intercourse.  Nor  can  a  man  long  be 
himself  who  does  not  speak  the  truth.  He 
duplicates  and  reduplicates  himself,  loses  all 
sense  of  personality,  and  becomes  a  mere 
phenomenon,  flickering  among  men  with  a 
false  light,  trusted  by  none,  and  at  last  is 
lost  even  to  himself  ;  for  a  liar  finally  ceases 
to  believe  himself ;  his  memory,  judgment, 
and  even  senses  fail  to  bring  him  true  re- 
ports. There  is  no  girdle  that  will  hold  a 
man  together  and  make  him  a  person  but 
the  truth.  And  so  it  enters  fundamentally 
into  the  highest  type  of  personal  character. 
Among  those  who  wear  the  title  of  gentle- 
man, it  takes  precedence  of  all  else,  even 
kingly  dignity.  Charles  I.  said  to  the  Com- 
moners, "  You  have  not  only  the  word  of  a 
king,  but  of  a  gentleman."  When  Nicholas 
of  Eussia  desired  to  assure  the  English  am- 
bassador that  he  was  speaking  the  truth,  he 
said,  "  I  desire  to  speak  with  you  as  a  gen^ 
tleman."  The  reason  that^some  [occupations) 
traditionally  exclude  those  folio wmgTIiem 
from  the  rank  of  gentleman  is  because  they" 
foster  lying:  In  certain  forms~oF  trade, 


MANNERS.  63 

where  the  values  are  unknown,  or  varia- 
ble, or  obscure,  the  temptation  to  lie  is  so 
strong  that  it  becomes  nearly  universal,  and 
those  following  such  callings  are  presumed 
to  be  unworthy  of  the  society  of  gentlemen. 
Truthf  ulnegg^jS—thfi^cbastitv  of  men  :  when 
once  sacrificed,  caste  is  forever  lost.  A  gen- 
tleman not  only  speaks  the  truth,  but  is 
truthful.  "  He  never  dodges,"  says  Emer- 
son. He  looks  squarely  at  person  or  thing, 
because  he  proposes  to  see  things  and  per- 
sons as  they  are.  And  being  attuned  to 
truth  within,  his  voice  will  have  the  pitch  of 
truth ;  the  very  poise  of  his  body  and  sway 
of  his  members  will  have  a  certain  direct- 
ness born  of  truth. 

2.  Kindness  of  heart ;  —  "  The  willing- 
ness and  faculty  to  oblige,"  Emerson  calls 
it.  If  one  has  not  this,  he  may  step  aside. 
If  truth  is  the  foundation  of  good  manners, 
kindness  is  the  superstructure,  —  that  which 
most  appears,  and  which  constitutes  them. 
The  phraseology  of  refined  society  is  express- 
ive of  love  and  interest.  We  begin  letters 
with  a  term  of  endearment,  and  we  used  to 
end  them  with  an  assurance  of  humble  ser- 
vice. Those  were  fine  old  e very-day  words, 
—  now  used  too  little,  —  "  I  am  at  your  ser- 


64  MANNERS. 

vice,"  "What  are  your  commands?"  The 
gentleman  exists  to  help;  he  has  no  other 
vocation.  If  you  desire  to  cultivate  your- 
selves in  this  matter,  let  your  husbandry  be 
in  this  direction.  A  spirit  of  universal  good- 
will, a  generous  heart,  and  an  open  hand,  — 
be  strong  in  these,  and  you  may  claim  this 
badge^of  highest  nobility. 


if  you  lack  heart,  if  your  hand 
is  kept  closed  except  when  pried  open  by 
shame  or  stout  appeal,  if  you  go  about  in  a 
spirit  of  caution  and  reserve  and  secret  dis- 
dain of  all  but  your  set,  you  are  out  of  our 
high  category  ;  neither  money,  birth,  nor 
sleekness  can  smuggle  you  in. 


^^ 

mistake  in  this  matter  is  that  the  tokens  of  / 
good-will  are  made  partiaLand  exclusive.     _  / 

There  are  enough  lief  love  and"  help  their 
own,  but  such  consideration  gives  no  true  title 
to  the  rank  of  gentleman.  It  is  the  very 
essence  of  gentlemanhood  that  one  is  helpful 
to  the  weak,  the  poor,  the  friendless,  the 
humble,  the  miserable,  the  degraded.  A 
gentleman  will  not  be  too  cautious  where  he 
bestows  his  favors.  The  economists  preach 
against  street  beggars,  but  your  Charles 
Lamb  cannot  be  kept  from  dropping  occa- 
sional pennies  into  their  hats.  He  is  not  too 


MANNERS.  65 

critical  of  the  testimonials  of  the  shipwrecked 
sailor,  and  he  sees  the  wan  face  and  rags  of 
poverty  more  than  he  listens  to  its  improba- 
ble tale.  He  does  not  mind  whose  bundle  he 
carries,  if  so  he  relieves  some  aching  arm  ; 
nor  how  low  the  doorway  he  enters,  if  he 
can  carry  cheer  across  the  threshold. 
3.  Ifjguth  is  thejonndation 


is,  the  superstnicture_ofjthe 
is  his  atmosphere,  —  a  hard  thing  to~deffne, 
but  a  very  real  thing  as  we  see  it,  or  the  lack 
of  it.  It  is  akin  to  truth,  but  is  Trmrg^-—  its_ 
aroma,  its  flowerTTts  souT  It  is  that  which  I  , 
makes  a  gentleman's  word  as  good  as  his  y 
bond.  We  get  its  exactmeaning  when  it  is 
used  in  conn(ecti<Jfr^^hfemaTe  virtue.^  It 
,  .  may  be  defined  as^n^exg^llSlte^aJl(ljmgera^ye 
;*  I  self-respect.  Honor  is  an  absolute  and  ulti- 
mate tiling.  It  knows  nothing  of  abatement, 
or  change,  or  degree.  It  governs  with  a  noble 
and  inexorable  necessity.  The  man  of  honor 
dies  sooner  than  break  its  lightest  behest. 
To  those  who  do  not  know  it,  it  is  less  than 
the  summer  cloud  ;  to  those  who  have  it,  ad- 
amant is  not  so  solid.  The  man  of  honor 
may  be  trusted  to  the  uttermost  ;  he  does 
not  know  temptation.  It  is  a  mail  that  dis- 
courages even  the  aiming  of  arrows.  Charles 


66  MANNERS. 

Sumner  thought  there  was  but  little  bribery 
in  Washington ;  he  had  never  seen  anything 
of  it.  The  man  of  honor  has  no  price.  Mr. 
Smiles,  in  one  of  his  admirable  books,  says 
that  Wellington  was  once  offered  half  a  mil- 
lion for  a  state  secret  not  of  any  special  value 
to  the  government,  but  the  keeping  of  which 
was  a  matter  of  honor.  "  It  appears  you  are 
capable  of  keeping  a  secret,"  he  said  to  the 
official.  "  Certainly,"  he  replied.  "  Then  so 
am  I,"  said  the  general,  and  bowed  him  out. 
Honor  is  offended  even  at  the  thought  of  its 
violation.  It  is  the  poetry  of  noble  man- 
hood :  — 

"  That  away, 
Men  are  but  gilded  loam  or  painted  clay." 

Unhappy  is  he  who  conies  to  years  of  man- 
hood and  finds  it  weak  and  dull ;  unhappier 
still  is  he  who  has  lost  it  by  some  deliberate 
act.  He  can  never  again  be  quite  the  same 
man.  Tarnished  honor  in  man  or  womanjs 
the  one~stainJiEat  cannot  be  washed  out.  The 
best  word  upon  it  in  all  literature,  I  think,  is 
in  Burns's  "  Epistle  to  a  Young  Friend :" — 

"  But  where  ye  feel  your  honor  grip, 

Let  that  aye  be  your  border  ; 
Its  slightest  touches,  instant  pause  ; 

Debar  a'  side  pretences, 
And  resolutely  keep  its  laws, 

Uncaring  consequences." 


MANNERS.  67 

4.  We  put  next  \delicacy,  4—  fineness  of 
fibre.  TlTTs  made  up  of  quick  perception 
and  fine  feeling.  It^  leads  one  to  see  in- 
stantly the  line  beyond  which  he  may  not 
go ;  to  detect  the  boundary  between  friend- 
liness and  familiarity,  between  earnestness 
and  heat,  between  sincerity  and  intolerance 
in  pressing  your  convictions,  between  style 
and  fussiness,  between  deference  and  its 
excess.  It  is  the  critic  and  mentor  of  the 
gentleman/  It  tells  him  what  is  coarse  and"  -u. 
unseemly  and  rude  and  excessive.  It  warns 
him  away  from  all  doubtful  acts  arid  per- 
sons. It  gives  little  or  no  reason,  —  it  is^ 
too  fine  for  analysis  and  logical  process,  — 
out  acts  like  a  divine  instinct,  and  is  to  be 
heeded  as  divine.  A  man  may  be  good 
without  it,  but  he  will  lack  a  nameless 
grace ;  he  will  fail  of  highest  respect  ;  he 
will  miss  the  best  companionship  ;  he  will 
make  blunders  that  hurt  him  without  his 
knowing  why  ;  he  will  feel  a  reproach  that 
he  cannot  understand.  It  is  this  quality  \ 
more  than  any  other  that  draws  theTme  in 
what  is  called  good  society./ — -MeiT'TjfiFen """ 
wonder  why  they^are  khul  uul)  from  certain 
grades  of  society  ;  they  are  well  dressed,  in- 
telligent, moral,  rich,  amiable,  —  still  the 


68  MANNERS. 

door  is  shut.  Let  them,  if  they  can,  mea- 
sure their  fibre,  and  they  will  usually  get  at 
the  cause.  It  is^this  qualit^that ^guides  in 
matters  of  dress,  the  length  and  frequency 
of  visits ;  that  discriminates  between  the 
shadow  and  substance  in  all  matters  of  eti- 
quette. It  determines  the  nature  and  num- 
ber of  questions  one  may  ask  of  another, 
and  sees  everywhere  and  always  the  invisible 
boundary  that  invests  personality. 

5.  I  name  next  respect  and  consideration 
for  others,  —  something  more  than  kindness 
and  less  ethereal  than  delicacy,  but  enter- 
ing quite  as  largely  and  imperatively  into 
the  e very-day  life  of  the  gentleman.  You 
perceive  at  once  that  it  tallies  with  our 
Faith,  —  not  self,  but  another.  To  con- 
sider, tender^ 

stances,  of  others,  —  what  is  this  but  Chris- 
,,  Jbian? 

There  is  one  respect  in  which  our  Anglo- 
Saxon  race  —  especially  when  the  Norman 
strain  is  thin  —  is  simply  brutal  in  its  man- 
ners, namely,  its  treatment  of  the  ludicrous 
when  it  involves  pain.  A  person,  old  or 
young,  on  sitting  down,  misses  the  chair  and 
comes  to  the  floor,  and  the  room  screams 
with  laughter.  What  could  be  more  es- 


MANNERS.  69 

sentially  cruel  and  barbarous?  A  public 
speaker  stammers,  and  the  audience  giggles. 
They  would  be  kinder,  he  thinks,  if  they 
would  pelt  him  with  the  foot-stools.  A  mis- 
take, a  peculiarity,  an  accident,  often  in- 
volves a  ludicrous  element,  but  it  is  well 
to  remember  that  a  sense  of  the  ludicrous 
is  not  the  loftiest  of  emotions.  The  simple 
question  in  such  cases  is  not,  How  does  the 
looker-on  feel  ?  but,  How  does  the  other  per- 
son feel?  If  there  were  a  litany  of  good 
manners,  it  might  well  begin,  From  gig- 
gling, good  Lord,  deliver  us.  The  word 
vulgar  will  not  often  be  found  on  these 
pages,  but  we  would  like  to  gather  up  all 
the  meaning  and  emphasis  lodged  in  it  and 
pour  them  upon  this  habit  of  inconsiderate 
laughter  at  the  misfortunes  of  others. 

Let  us  hasten  to  the  pleasanter  side  of 
our  subject.  The  oft-quoted  historical  illus- 
tration of  this  grace  of  consideration,  never 
to  be  passed  by,  is  that  of  Sidney,  at  the 
battle  of  Zutphen,  handing  the  cup  of  water, 
for  which  he  longed  with  dying  thirst,  to 
the  wounded  soldier  beside  him  :  "  He  needs 
it  more  than  I." 

"  How  far  that  little  candle  throws  his  beams  I  " 

Like  it  is  the  incident  of  Sir  Ralph  Ab- 


70  MANNERS. 

ercrombie,  —  told  by  Smiles,  —  who,  when 
mortally  wounded,  found  under  his  head  the 
blanket  of  a  private  soldier,  placed  there  to 
ease  his  dying  pains.  "  Whose  blanket  is 
this  ?  "  "  Duncan  Roy's."  "  See  that  Dun- 
can Roy  gets  his  blanket  this  very  night," 
said  Sir  Ralph,  and  died  without  its  com- 
fort. Smiles  gives  another  line  instance  of 
this  divine  grace,  all  the  better  from  its 
spontaneity.  Two  English  navvies  in  Paris 
saw,  one  rainy  day,  a  hearse,  with  its  burden, 
winding  along  the  streets,  unattended  by  a 
single  mourner ;  falling  in  behind,  they  fol- 
lowed it  to  the  cemetery.  It  was  only  senti- 
ment, but  it  was  fine  and  true.  Such  senti- 
ment leads  a  captain  to  go  down  with  his 
ship  ;  the  fireman  to  pass  through  flame ; 
the  soldier  to  go  on  the  forlorn  hope. 
When  spontaneous,  it  shows  that  our  nature 
is  sound  at  the  core  ;  when  wrought  into  a 
conscious  habit,  it  reveals  the  divine  glory 
that  every  life  may  take  on. 

One  imbued  with  this  high  quality  never 
sees  personal  deformity  or  blemish.  A  lame 
man  could  easily  classify  his  friends  as  to 
their  breeding  by  drawing  a  line  between 
those  who  ask  how  it  hajjpened,  and  those 
who  refrain  from  all  question.  I  say  dis- 


MANNERS.  71 

tinctly,  the  gentleman  never  sees  deformity. 
He  will  not  talk  to  a  beggar  of  his  rags,  nor 
boast  of  his  health  before  the  sick,  nor  speak 
of  his  wealth  among  the  poor ;  he  will  not 
seem  to  be  fortunate  among  the  hapless,  nor 
make  any  show  of  his  virtue  before  the  vi- 
cious. He  will  avoid  all  painful  contrast, 
always  looking  at  the  thing  in  question  from 
the  standpoint  of  the  other  person. 

The  gentleman  is  largely  dowered  with 
forbearance.  The  preacher  will  not  dogma- 
tize nor  indulge  in  personality  before  an 
audience  that  has  no  chance  to  reply.  The 
lawyer  will  not  browbeat  the  witness  —  no,_ 
not  even  to  win  his  case  —  if  he  is  a  gentle- 
man. The  physician  is  as  delicate  as  purity 
itself,  and  as  secretive  as  the  grave.  There 
is  no  finer  touchstone  of  the  gentleman  than 
the  forbearing  use  of  power  or  advantage 
over  another  :  the  employer  to  his  men,  the 
liusband  to  his  wife,  the  creditor  to  his 
debtor,  the  rich  to  the  poor,  the  educated 
to  the  ignorant,  the  teacher  to  pupils,  the  ] 
prosperous  to  the  unfortunate. 

"  Oh,  it  is  excellent 

To  have  a  giant's  strength  ;  but  it  is  tyrannous 
To  use  it  like  a  giant." 

6.  How  far  manners  are  to  be  made  a  mat- 


72  MANNERS. 

ter  of  rule,  is  a  question  you  will  inevitably 
ask.  From  within  out  —  js^  the  f  undamen- 
tal  law;  still  there  is  an  external 


the  subject  quite  worth  heeding. 

There  is  a  certain  fine  robustness  of  char- 
acter that  is  prone  to  pay  little  heed  to  the 
"  thou  shalt  "  and  "  thou  shalt  not  "  of  so- 
ciety ;  and  there  is  a  certain  spirituality  that 
says,  "  Make  your  own  rules."  There  is 
much  truth  in  both  positions,  but  it  is  deli- 
cate ground  to  tread  on  ;  one  needs  to  be 
sure-footed  and  quick-eyed,  to  avoid  falls. 
Upon  the  whole,  and  for  the  most  of  us,  it 
isjjetter  that  there  should  be  a  codg^of_§OjL, 
cial  laws,  well  understood  and  rather  care- 
jully  observed  ;  at  least,  one^shouldalwavs 
Jhave  them  at  hand,  ready  for  use.  There 
are  many  things  that  help  to  rniflSTTif  e  easy 
and  agreeable  which  are  not  taught  by  intui- 
tion. Nor  could  we  live  together  in  mutual 
convenience  unless  we  agreed  upon  certain 
arbitrary  rules  as  to  daily  intercourse.  If 
it  is  well  to  have  these  common  habits  and 
interchanges  of  courtesy,  it  is  well  to  have 
them  in  the  best  form,  even  to  punctilious- 
ness. t  Without  doubt,  what  are  called  the 


t 
ft 


of  society  are  not 


gentlemanhood,  but  are  extremely  conven- 


MANNERS.  73 

ient.    I  am  not  about  to  indicate  these  rules, 
but  "I  may  suggest  that  in   all   matters  of 
dress,  of  care  of  the  person,  of  carriage,  of 
command   of   the   features   and  voice   and 
eyes,  and^of   what  are  called.  thejgayj^oL^ 
good  society,  it  is  of  great  use  to  be  well    M/ 
mtorn^gdr  —  They  wilTnQL  Lake  j^UjjnjSL-siejT 
on  the__jway,  butthey^wiil  smooth  it,  and 
the_Jack  of  them  njay  block  it  altogether.^yiA/( 
The  maln^epeniteTic^^ausrbe  on  theTBTngs 
we   have    considered.      If   one  is  centrally 
true,  kind,  honorable,  delicate,  and  consid- 
erate, he  will  almost  without  fail  have  man- 
ners  that    will    take   him   into    any   circle 
where  culture  and  taste  prevail  over  folly. 
this  inward   seed   np.ftda 


^ 

should-  levy^Qn  all  graceful  jforms,  on  prac- 
tice and  discipline,  onobservation,  on  fash-^ 
ion^even,  and  make  themTsuBserve  its  native 
atch  those  of  excellent  reputation 


go  to  the  metropolis,  jand  learn  its  grace; 


in  the  city,  when  yoif  go  to 


simplicity.  Catch  the~tempeF6f  the  greaT~ 
masters  of  literature  ;  the  nobility  of  Scott, 
the  sincerity  of  Thackeray,  the  heartiness  of 
Dickens,  the  tenderness  of  Macdonald,  the 


74  MANNERS. 

delicacy   of  Tennyson,  the  grace  of   Long- 
fellow, the  repose  of  Shakespeare. 

Manners  in  thishigh  sense,  and  sojiearned, 
take  one  far  on  in  the  world.  They  are  ir- 
resistifcle.  ™Tf  "you  meet  theTking  he  will 
recognize  you  as  a  brother.  They  are  a 
defense  against  insult.  AJ 


e  who  wears  them  approaches.  They 
cannot  be  bought.  They  cannot  be  learned 
as  from  a  book  ;  they  cannot  pass  from  lip 
to  lip  ;  they  come  from  within,  and  from 
a  within  that  is  grounded  in  truth,  honor, 
delicacy,  kindness,  and  consideration. 

These  pages  may  fall  under  the  eyes  of 
some  readers  along  with  the  Christmas-tide. 
No  theme  is  more  appropriate  to  it.  The 
spirit  of  these  days  is  alive  with  tenderest 
courtesy.  A  gentleman  can  have  no  better 
watchword  than  that  sung  at  Bethlehem  : 
"  Peace  on  earth,  good-will  to  men." 

"  Come  wealth  or  want,  come  good  or  ill, 
Let  old  and  young  accept  their  part, 
And  bow  before  the  awful  will, 
And  bear  it  with  an  honest  heart.-. 


"  Who  misses  or  who  wins  the  prize  ? 

Go,  lose  or  conquer  as  you  can ; 
But  if  you  fail,  or  if  you  rise, 
Be  each,  pray  God,  a  gentleman. 


MANNERS.  75 

// 

"  A  gentleman,  or  old  or  young- ! 

(Bear  kindly  with  my  humble  lay. ) 
The  sacred  chorus  first  was  sung 
Upon  the  first  of  Christmas  days ; 

"  The  shepherds  heard  it  overhead, 

The  joyful  angels  raised  it  then: 
Glory  to  God  on  high,  it  said, 

And  peace  on  earth  to  gentle  —  men.' '  * 

Epilogue  to  Dr.  Birch  and  his  Young  Friends. 


rv. 

THKIFT. 


"  Thrift  is  the  best  means  of  thriving."  —  GUESSES  AT 
TRUTH. 

"  Economy,  whether  public  or  private,  means  the  wise 
management  of  labor;  and  it  means  it  mainly  in  three 
senses :  namely,  first,  applying  your  labor  rationally  ;  sec- 
ondly, preserving  its  produce  carefully ;  lastly,  distribut- 
ing its  produce  seasonably."  —  RITSKIN. 

"  In  the  morning  sow  thy  seed,  and  in  the  evening  with- 
hold not  thy  hand ;  for  thou  knowest  not  whether  shall 
prosper,  either  this  or  that,  or  whether  they  shall  be  alike 
good. "  — SOLOMON. 

"  The  virtues  are  economists."  —  EMERSON. 

"  No  man  can  gauge  the  value,  at  the  present  critical 
time,  of  a  steady  stream  of  young  men,  flowing  into  all 
professions  and  all  industries,  who  have  learned  resolutely 
to  speak  in  a  society  such  as  ours :  '  I  can't  afford.'  "  — 
THOMAS  HUGHES. 


IV. 

THRIFT. 

WE  have  so  long  been  told  that  we  are  a 
thrifty  people  that  we  go  on  assuming  it  as 
a  fact  without  fresh  examination.  Thrift  is 
more  apt  to  be  a  phase  than  a  characteristic 
of  the  life  of  a  nation,  —  a  habit  than  a  prin- 
ciple. That  we  are  thrifty  because  our  an- 
cestors were  no  more  follows  than  that  the 
ship  which  sails  out  of  the  harbor  stanch  and 
tight  will  be  sound  when  she  returns  from  a 
long  and  stormy  voyage.  It  was  not  from 
any  instinct  or  natural  trait  that  our  fore- 
fathers were  thrifty,  but  from  a  moral  neces- 
sity. The  Celt  is  naturally  thrifty.  The 
Anglo-Saxon  is  thrifty  only  when  there  is 
some  strong  motive  behind  or  before  him; 
he  is  thrifty  for  a  reason,  and  this  certainly 
is  the  best  foundation  for  the  virtue.  The 
early  settlers  found  themselves  here  in  cir- 
cumstances out  of  keeping  with  their  char- 
acters, —  poor  in  one  and  rich  in  the  other, 


80  THRIFT. 

and  so  set  about  overcoming  the  discrepancy. 
Their  large  and  noble  conceptions  of  man 
required  that  he  should  be  well  housed  and 
cared  for.  Dr.  Holmes  says :  "  I  never  saw 
a  house  too  fine  to  shelter  the  human  head. 
Elegance  fits  man."  When  Nero  built  his 
palace  of  marble  and  ivory  and  gold,  he 
said,  "  This  is  a  fit  house  for  a  man."  The 
scientists  tell  us  that  environment  and  life 
stand  in  a  relation  of  necessity;  they  cer- 
tainly stand  in  the  relation  of  fitness.  The 
strong,  divinely  nourished  common  sense  of 
our  fathers  perceived  this,  and  they  hus- 
banded as  earnestly  as  they  prayed.  They 
could  give  up  all  for  a  cause  and  take  no 
thought  for  the  morrow,  if  the  occasion  re- 
quired, but  they  knew  how  to  discriminate 
between  the  rare  occasion  for  total  self-sacri- 
fice and  the  conduct  of  every-day  life.  Con- 
sequently thrift  soon  got  a  strong  hold. 
New  England  early  produced  two  great  in- 
spiring minds,  —  Jonathan  Edwards  and 
Benjamin  Franklin.  Far  apart  in  spirit  and 
character,  they  formed  a  grand  unity  in  their 
influence.  One  taught  religion,  the  other 
thrift ;  one  clarified  theology,  the  other 
taught  the  people  how  to  get  on.  Edwards 
tided  New  England  over  the  infidelity  that 


THRIFT.  81 

prevailed  in  the  last  century ;  Franklin  cre- 
ated the  wealth  that  feeds  society  to-day  by 
inspiring  a  passion  for  thrift.  Hence,  for  a 
century,  irreligion  and  beggary  were  equally 
a  reproach,  and  still  in  no  country  in  the 
world  is  the  latter  held  so  vile. 

But  these  formative  influences  are  evi- 
dently waning.  Nor  is  it  to  be  altogether 
regretted.  Both  were  too  austere  to  be  per- 
petually healthful  ;  neither  regarded  the 
breadth  and  scope  of  human  nature.  The 
danger  is  lest  the  ebb  in  thrift  be  exces- 
sive, and  its  method  be  exchanged  for  others 
not  so  sure  and  wholesome.  Thrift  pertains 
to  details.  It  is  alike  our  glory  and  our 
fault  that  we  are  impatient  of  details.  Our 
courage  prompts  to  risks,  our  large-minded- 
ness  invites  to  great  undertakings  ;  both 
somewhat  adverse  to  thrift,  —  one  essen- 
tially, and  the  other  practically,  —  because 
great  undertakings  are  for  the  few,  while 
thrift  is  for  all.  Large  enterprises  make 
the  few  rich,  but  the  majority  prosper  only 
through  the  carefulness  and  detail  of  thrift. 
To  speak  of  it  is  a  Scylla  and  Charybdis 
voyage ;  while  shunning  the  jaws  of  waste, 
there  is  danger  of  drifting  upon  the  rocks 
of  meanness.  I  say  frankly,  if  either  fate 


82  THRIFT. 

is  to  befall  us,  I  would  rather  it  were  not  the 
last. 

I  begin  by  insisting  on  the  importance  of 
having  money.  Speculate  and  preach  about 
it  as  we  will,  the  main  factor  in  civilized 
society  is  money.  As  the  universe  of  worlds 
needs  some  common  force  like  gravitation 
to  hold  them  to  their  place,  so  society  re- 
quires some  dominating  passion  or  purpose 
to  hold  its  members  in  mutual  relations. 
Money  supplies  this  end.  Without  some 
such  general  moving  force,  society  would  be 
chaotic  ;  men  could  not  work  together,  could 
achieve  no  common  results,  could  have  no 
common  standards  of  virtue  and  attainment. 
Buiwer  says :  "  Never  treat  money  affairs 
with  levity  ;  money  is  character."  And  in- 
deed character  for  the  most  part  is  deter- 
mined by  one's  relation  to  money.  Find 
out  how  one  gets,  saves,  spends,  gives,  lends, 
borrows,  and  bequeathes  money,  and  you 
have  the  character  of  the  man  in  full  out- 
line. "  If  one  does  all  these  wisely,"  says 
Henry  Taylor,  "  it  would  almost  argue  a 
perfect  man."  Nearly  all  the  virtues  play 
about  the  use  of  money,  —  honesty,  justice, 
generosity,  charity,  frugality,  forethought, 
self-sacrifice.  The  poor  man  is  called  to 


THRIFT.  83 

certain  great  and  strenuous  virtues,  but  he 
has  not  the  full  field  of  conduct  open  to  him 
as  it  is  to  the  man  of  wealth.  He  may  un- 
dergo a  deep  and  valuable  discipline,  but  he 
will  not  get  the  full  training  that  a  rich  man 
may.  St.  Paul  compassed  the  matter  by 
knowing  how  to  abound  as  well  as  how  to 
suffer  want.  Poverty  is  a  limitation  all  the 
way  through ;  it  is  good  only  as  in  all  evil 
there  is  "  a  soul  of  goodness."  Mr.  Jarvis 
says,  "  Among  the  poor  there  is  less  vital 
force,  a  lower  tone  of  life,  more  ill  health, 
more  weakness,  more  early  death."  If  pov- 
erty is  our  lot,  we  must  bear  it  bravely,  and 
contend  against  its  chilling  and  stifling  influ- 
ences ;  but  we  are  not  to  think  of  it  as  good, 
nor  in  any  way  save  as  something  to  be 
avoided  or  gotten  rid  of,  if  honor  and  honesty 
permit  it.  I  wish  I  could  fill  every  young  man 
who  reads  these  pages  with  a  dread  and  horror 
of  poverty.  I  wish  I  could  make  you  so  feel 
its  constraint  and  bitterness,  that  you  would 
make  vows  against  it.  You  would  then  read 
patiently  what  I  shall  say  of  thrift.  You 
may  already  have  a  sufficiently  ill  opinion 
of  poverty,  but  you  may  not  understand  that 
one  is  already  poverty-stricken  if  his  habits 
are  not  thrifty.  Every  day  I  see  young  men 


84  THRIFT. 

—  well  dressed,  with  full  purses  and  some- 
thing of  inheritance  awaiting  them  —  as 
plainly  foredoomed  to  poverty  as  if  its  rags 
hung  about  them. 

The  secret  of  thrift  is  forethought.  Its 
process  is  saving  for  use ;  it  involves  also 
judicious  spending.  The  thrifty  man  saves ; 
savings  require  investments  in  stable  and 
remunerative  forms ;  hence  that  order  and 
condition  of  things  that  we  call  civilization, 
which  does  not  exist  until  one  generation 
passes  on  the  results  of  its  labors  and  savings 
to  the  next.  Thus  thrift  underlies  civili- 
zation as  well  as  personal  prosperity.  The 
moment  it  ceases  to  act.  society  retrogrades 
towards  savagery,  the  main  feature  of  which 
is  absence  of  forethought.  A  spendthrift  or 
idler  is  essentially  a  savage ;  a  generation  of 
them  would  throw  society  back  into  barba- 
rism. There  are  a  large  number  of  young 
men — chiefly  to  be  found  in  cities  —  who  rise 
from  their  beds  at  eleven  or  twelve ;  break- 
fast in  a  club-house  ;  idle  away  the  afternoon 
in  walking  or  driving ;  spend  a  part  of  the 
evening  with  their  families,  the  rest  at  some 
place  of  amusement  or  in  meeting  the  en- 
gagements of  society ;  bring  up  at  the  club- 
house or  some  gambling  den  or  place  of 


THRIFT.  85 

worse  repute  ;  and  early  in  the  morning  be- 
take themselves  to  bed  again.  They  do  no 
work ;  they  read  but  little  ;  they  have  no  re- 
ligion ;  they  are  as  a  class  vicious.  I  depict 
them  simply  to  classify  them.  These  men 
are  essentially  savages.  Except  in  some 
slight  matters  of  taste  and  custom,  they  are 
precisely  the  individuals  Stanley  found  in 
Central  Africa,  with  some  advantages  in 
favor  of  the  African.  Some  years  ago,  Mr. 
Buckle  startled  the  reading  world  by  putting 
the  Roman  Catholics  of  Spain  and  the  high 
Calvinists  of  Scotland  in  the  same  class,  as 
alike  in  the  generic  trait  of  bigotry,  though 
differing  in  matters  of  belief.  Precisely  in 
the  same  way,  and  with  the  same  logical 
correctness,  these  idlers  are  to  be  put  in 
the  same  category  with  savages.  They  live 
under  the  fundamental  characteristic  of  sav- 
agery, namely,  improvidence.  Our  young 
man  of  leisure  has  a  rich  father,  and  the 
African  has  his  perennial  banana,  and,  upon 
the  whole,  rather  a  surer  outlook. 

The  chief  distinction  between  civilization 
and  barbarism  turns  on  thrift.  Thrift  is 
the  builder  of  society.  Thrift  redeems  man 
from  savagery. 

What  are  its  methods  ? 


86  THRIFT. 

1.  I  name  the  first  in  one  word,  —  save. 
Thrift  has  no  rule  so  imperative  and  without 
exception.  If  you  have  an  allowance,  teach 
yourself  on  no  account  to  exhaust  it.  The 
margin  between  income  and  expenditure  is 
sacred  ground,  and  must  not  be  touched 
except  for  weightiest  reasons.  But  if  you 
are  earning  a  salary,  it  matters  not  how 
small,  plan  to  save  some  part  of  it.  If  you 
receive  seventy-five  cents  per  day,  live  on 
seventy  ;  if  one  dollar,  spend  but  ninety ;  you 
thus  save  thirty  dollars  a  year,  —  enough  to 
put  you  into  the  category  of  civilization. 
But  he  who  spends  all  must  not  complain  if 
we  set  him  down  logically  a  savage.  Your 
saving  may  be  small,  but  it  represents  a 
feeling  and  a  purpose,  and,  small  as  it  is,  it 
divides  a  true  from  a  spurious  manhood. 

Life  in  its  last  analysis  is  a  struggle. 
The  main  question  for  us  all  is  :  which  is 
getting  the  advantage,  self  or  the  world? 
When  one  is  simply  holding  his  own,  spend- 
ing all  he  earns,  and  has  nothing  between 
himself  and  this  "  rough  world,"  he  is  in 
a  fair  way  to  be  worsted  in  the  battle.  He 
inevitably  grows  weaker  in  the  course  of 
nature,  while  the  pitiless  world  keeps  to  its 
pitch  of  heavy  exaction. 


THRIFT.  87 

There  is  a  sense  of  strength  and  advan- 
tage essential  to  manly  character,  springing 
from  however  slight  gains.  Say  what  we 
will  about  "  honest  poverty,"  —  and  I  would 
say  nothing  against  it,  for  I  well  know  that 
God  may  build  barriers  of  poverty  about  a 
man,  not  to  be  passed,  yet  within  which  he 
may  nourish  a  royal  manhood,  —  still  the 
men  who  escape  from  poverty  into  indepen- 
dence wear  a  nobler  mien  than  those  who 
simply  keep  even  with  the  world.  Burns  is 
the  poet  of  the  poor  man,  and  has  almost 
glorified  poverty,  but  he  put  into  none  of 
his  verses  more  of  his  broad  common  sense 
than  into  these :  — 

"  To  catch  Dame  Fortune's  golden  smile, 

Assiduous  wait  upon  her ; 
And  gather  gear  by  ev'ry  wile 

That 's  justified  by  honor : 
Not  for  to  hide  it  in  a  hedge, 

Nor  for  a  train  attendant ; 
But  for  the  glorious  privilege 

Of  being  independent." 

It  is  a  great  part  of  this  battle  of  life  to 
keep  a  good  heart.  The  prevailing  mood  of 
the  poor  is  that  of  sadness.  Their  gayety 
is  forced  and  fitful.  Their  drinking  habits 
are  the  cause  and  the  result  of  their  poverty. 
There  is  no  repose,  no  sense  of  adequacy,  no 


88  THRIFT. 

freedom,  after  one  has  waked  up  to  the  fact 
that  he  is  poor.  It  takes  but  little  to  re- 
deem one  from  this  feeling.  The  spirit  and 
purpose  of  saving  changes  the  whole  color 
of  life.  It  is  not  necessary  to  have  already 
made  accumulations  to  secure  your  own  or 
others'  indorsement  of  your  manliness. 
The  direction  you  face  will  be  sufficient.  I 
recall  the  homely  story  of  the  young  man 
who  applied  to  the  father  of  "  the  dearest 
girl  in  the  world  "  for  permission  to  marry, 
and,  in  answer  to  the  searching  and  inevi- 
table question  (don't  forget  that  you  must 
meet  it)  as  to  his  resources  and  ability  to 
support  a  wife,  was  obliged  to  confess  that 
he  had  no  money,  but  declared  that  he  was 
"  chock-full  of  day's  work."  Money  was 
only  a  question  of  time. 

It  can  hardly  be  expected  that  you  will 
look  ahead  twenty  or  forty  years,  and  realize 
the  actual  stings  of  poverty  and  the  sharper 
stings  of  thriftless  habits ;  but  it  may  be 
expected  that  you  will  see  why  it  is  wiser 
and  more  manly  to  save  than  to  spend. 
There  is  a  certain  fascinating  glamour  about 
the  young  man  who  spends  freely ;  whose 
purse,  whether  deep  or  shallow,  is  always 
open  ;  who  is  always  ready  to  foot  the  bills  ; 


THRIFT.  89 

who  says  yes  to  every  proposal  to  spend,  and 
produces  the  money.  I  have  known  such  in 
the  past,  but  as  I  meet  them  now  I  find 
them  quite  as  ready  to  foot  the  bills,  but 
generally  unable  to  do  so.  I  have  noticed 
also  that  the  givers,  and  the  benefactors  of 
society,  had  no  such  youthhood.  This  pop- 
ular and  fascinating  young  man  is  in  reality 
a  poor  creature  ;  very  interesting  he  may  be 
in  the  matter  of  drinks,  and  billiards,  and 
theatre  tickets,  and  suppers,  and  clothes, 
and  club-rates ;  but  when  he  earns  five  or 
eight  or  ten  hundred  dollars  a  year,  and 
spends  it  chiefly  in  these  ways,  would  charity 
itself  call  him  anything  but  a  fool?  The 
boys  hail  him  a  royal  good  fellow,  and  the 
girls  pet  him,  but  who  respects  him  ?  I  do 
not  write  of  him  here  with  any  hope  of  bet- 
tering him  ;  he  is  of  the  class  of  whom  it  is 
said  that  an  experience  in  a  mortar  would  be 
a  failure.  I  speak  to  a  higher  grade  of  in- 
telligence. The  painful  fact,  however,  is  to 
be  recognized,  that  the  saving  habit  is  los- 
ing ground.  The  reasons  are  evident ;  city 
and  country  are  one.  The  standards  of 
dress,  amusements,  and  life  generally  are  set 
in  the  richer  circles  of  the  metropolis,  and 
are  observed,  at  whatever  cost,  in  all  other 


90  THRIFT. 

circles.  I  can  do  nothing  to  offset  these 
influences  but  to  remind  you  of  nobler 
methods.  I  can  only  say  that  to  spend 
all  one  earns  is  a  mistake  ;  that  while  to 
spend,  except  in  a  severe  and  judicious 
way,  weakens  character,  economy  dignifies 
and  strengthens  it. 

The  habit  of  saving  is  itself  an  education. 
It  fosters  every  virtue.  It  teaches  self-de- 
nial. It  cultivates  a  sense  of  order.  It 
trains  to  forethought,  and  so  broadens  the 
mind.  It  reveals  the  meaning  of  the  word 
business,  which  is  something  very  different 
from  its  routine.  One  may  know  all  the 
forms  of  business,  even  in  a  practical  way, 
without  having  the  business  characteristic. 
Were  a  merchant  to  choose  for  a  partner 
a  young  man  thoroughly  conversant  with 
the  business,  but  having  expensive,  self-in- 
dulgent habits,  or  one  not  yet  versed  in  its 
details,  yet  who  knows  how  to  keep  a  dol- 
lar when  he  has  earned  it,  he  would  unhes- 
itatingly take  the  latter.  The  habit  of  saving, 
while  it  has  its  dangers,  even  fosters  gener- 
osity. The  great  givers  have  been  great 
savers.  The  miserly  habit  is  not  acquired, 
but  is  inborn.  Not  there  lies  the  danger. 
The  divinely -ordered  method  of  saving  so 


THRIFT.  91 

educates  and  establishes  such  order  in  the 
man,  and  brings  him  into  so  intelligent  a 
relation  to  the  world,  that  he  becomes  a 
benefactor.  It  is  coarse  thinking  to  con- 
found spending  with  generosity,  or  saving 
with  meanness. 

2.  I  vary  the  strain  but  little  when  I  say : 
avoid  a  self-indulgent  spending  of  money. 

The  great  body  of  young  men  in  our  coun- 
try are  in  the  receipt  of  such  incomes  that 
the  question  whether  a  thing  can  be  afforded 
or  not  becomes  a  highly  possible  inquiry. 
With  incomes  ranging  from  a  dollar  or  less 
per  day  to  a  thousand  dollars  a  year,  there  is 
room  for  the  play  of  that  wise  word,  afford. 
I  think  it  tends  to  shut  out  several  things  that 
are  very  generally  indulged  in.  I  have  no  in- 
tention of  saying  anything  here  against  the 
pleasant  habit  of  smoking,  except  to  set  it  in 
the  light  of  this  common-sense  word,  afford. 
Your  average  salaries  are,  say,  five  hundred 
dollars.  If:  you  smoke  cigars,  your  smallest 
daily  allowance  will  be  two,  costing  at  least 
twenty  cents,  —  I  assume  that  you  do  not  de- 
grade yourselves  by  using  a  cheaper  article, 
—  which  amounts  to  more  than  seventy  dol- 
lars a  yaar.  If  it  were  fifty,  it  would  be  a 
tenth  of  your  salary.  The  naked  question 


92  THRIFT. 

for  a  rational  being  to  consider  is :  can  I 
afford  to  spend  a  tenth  or  a  seventh  of  my 
income  in  a  mere  indulgence  ?  What  has 
common  sense  to  say  to  the  proportion? 
Would  not  this  amount,  lodged  in  some 
sound  investment,  contribute  rather  more  to 
self-respect  ?  Ten  years  of  such  expenditure 
represent  probably  a  thousand  dollars,  for 
there  is  an  inevitable  ratio  of  increase  in  all 
self-indulgent  habits  ;  fifty  years  represent 
five  thousand,  —  more  than  most  men  will 
have  at  sixty-five,  who  begin  life  with  so 
poor  an  understanding  of  the  word  afford. 
Double  these  estimates,  and  they  will  be  all 
the  truer.  I  do  not  propose  in  these  pages 
to  enter  on  a  crusade  against  tobacco,  but  I 
may  remind  you  that  the  eye  of  the  world  is 
fixed  on  the  tobacco  habit  with  a  very  close 
gaze.  The  educators  in  Europe  and  Amer- 
ica are  agreed  that  it  impairs  mental  energy. 
Life  insurance  companies  are  shy  of  its  pe- 
culiar pulse.  Oculists  say  that  it  weakens 
the  eyes.  Physicians  declare  it  to  be  a  pro- 
lific cause  of  dyspepsia,  and  hence  of  other 
ills.  The  vital  statistician  finds  in  it  an  en- 
emy of  virility.  It  is  asserted  by  the  lead- 
ing authorities  in  each  department  that  it 
takes  the  spring  out  of  the  nerves,  the  firm- 


THRIFT.  93 

ness  out  of  the  muscles,  the  ring  out  of  the 
voice;  that  it  renders  the  memory  less  re- 
tentive, the  judgment  less  accurate,  the  con- 
science less  quick,  the  sensibilities  less  acute  ; 
that  it  relaxes  the  will,  and  dulls  every  fac- 
ulty of  body  and  mind  and  moral  nature, 
dropping  the  entire  man  down  in  the  scale  of 
his  powers,  and  so  is  to  be  regarded  as  one 
of  the  wasters  of  society.  I  do  not  under- 
take to  affirm  all  these  propositions,  but 
only  to  show  how  the  social  critics  of  the  day 
are  regarding  the  subject. 

The  habit  of  drinking  is  so  nearly  par- 
allel with  smoking  in  its  relation  to  thrift 
that  it  need  not  detain  us.  The  same  co- 
gent word  afford  applies  here  with  stronger 
emphasis,  because  the  drinking  habit  in- 
volves a  larger  ratio  of  increase.  Waiving 
any  moral  considerations  involved  in  beer 
drinking,  the  fact  of  its  cost  should  throw 
it  out.  The  same  startling  figures  we  have 
used  are  more  than  true  here.  It  is  not  a 
thrifty  habit,  and  no  young  man  who  has 
his  way  to  make  in  the  world  is  entitled  to 
an  unthrifty  habit.  It  is  idle  to  repeat  the 
truisms  of  the  theme;  We  have  heard  till 
we  cease  to  heed  that  drink  is  the  great 
waster  of  society.  Great  Britain  spends 


94  THRIFT. 

annually  two  hundred  and  fifty  millions  of 
dollars  in  drink.  Our  own  statistics  are 
nearly  as  bad.  It  is  the  one  thing  —  even 
if  it  does  not  reach  the  proportions  of  a  vice 
—  that  keeps  more  men  out  of  a  competence 
than  all  other  causes  combined.  The  twin 
habits  of  smoking  and  beer-drinking  stand 
for  a  respectable  property  to  all  who  in- 
dulge in  them,  —  a  thing  the  greater  part 
will  never  have,  though  they  have  had  it. 
"  The  gods  sell  all  things  at  a  fair  price," 
says  the  proverb ;  but  they  sell  nothing 
dearer  than  these  two  indulgences,  since  the 
price  is  commonly  the  man  himself. 

The  simple  conclusion  that  common  sense 
forces  upon  us  is  that  a  young  man  front- 
ing life  cannot  afford  to  drink ;  he  cannot 
afford  the  money ;  he  cannot  afford  to  bear 
the  reputation  nor  run  the  risks  it  involves. 

I  refer  next  to  the  habit  of  light  and 
foolish  spending.  Emerson  says,  "  The 
farmer's  dollar  is  heavy  ;  the  clerk's  is  light 
and  nimble,  leaps  out  of  his  pockets,  jumps 
on  to  cards  and  faro  tables."  But  it  gets 
into  no  more  foolish  place  than  the  till  of  the 
showman,  and  minstrel  troupe,  and  theatri- 
cal company.  I  do  not  say  these  things  are 
bad.  When  decent,  they  are  allowable  as 


THRIFT.  95 

an  occasional  recreation,  but  here,  as  before, 
the  sense  of  proportion  must  be  observed ; 
not  what  I  like,  but  what  I  can  afford. 

It  has  been  said  that  no  one  should  carry 
coin  loose  in  the  pocket,  as  too  easily  got  at. 
I  would  vary  it  by  applying  the  Spanish 
proverb,  "  Before  forty,  nothing ;  after  forty, 
anything."  If  one  has  been  careful  in  early 
life,  he  may  be  careless  after.  At  first  let 
the  purse  be  stout  and  well  tied  with  stout 
strings ;  later  there  need  be  no  purse,  but 
only  an  open  hand. 

It  seerns  to  be  an  excess  of  simplicity  to 
suggest  that  a  young  man  should  purchase 
nothing  that  he  does  not  actually  want, 
nothing  because  it  is  cheap  ;  that  he  should 
resist  the  glittering  appeals  of  jewels  and 
fine  clothing  and  delicate  surroundings. 

3.  It  is  an  essential  condition  of  thrift 
that  one  should  keep  to  legitimate  occupa- 
tions. There  is  no  thrift  in  chance ;  its 
central  idea  is  order,  —  a  series  of  causes 
and  effects  along  the  line  of  which  fore- 
thought can  look  and  make  its  calculations. 
Speculation  makes  the  few  rich  and  the 
many  poor.  Thrift  divides  the  prizes  of 
life  to  those  who  deserve  them.  If  the 
great  fortunes  are  the  results  of  specula- 


96  THRIFT. 

tions,  the  average  competencies  have  their 
foundation  and  permanence  in  thrifty  ways. 

4.  Have  a  thorough  knowledge  of  your 
affairs ;   leave    nothing    at   loose    ends ;    be 
exact   in   every  business   transaction.     The 
chief  source  of  quarrel  in  the  business  world 
is  what  is  termed  "  an  understanding,"  end- 
ing commonly  in  a  misunderstanding.     It  is 
not  ungenerous  nor  ignoble  always  to  insist 
on  a  full,  straight-out  bargain,  and  it  falls 
in  with  the  thrifty  habit. 

It  is  a  simple  matter  to  name,  but  I  can- 
not resist  saying  that  the  habit  of  keeping 
a  strict  account  of  personal  expenses  down 
to  the  penny  has  great  educational  power. 
Keep  such  a  book,  tabulate  its  items  at  the 
close  of  the  year,  —  so  much  for  necessaries, 
so  much  for  luxuries,  so  much  for  worse 
than  luxuries,  —  and  listen  to  what  it  re- 
ports to  you. 

5.  Thrift  has  a  secret  foe  in  debt,  as  it 
has  open  ones  in  vice  and  idleness.     It  may 
sometimes  be  wise  for  one    to  put  himself 
under  a  heavy  debt,  as  for  an  education,  or 
for  a  home  ;  but  the  debt-habit  is  the  twin 
brother  of  poverty. 

6.  Thrift  must  have  a  sufficient  motive. 
There  is  none  a  young  man  feels  so  keenly,  if 


THRIFT.  97 

once  he  will  think  so  far,  as  the  honorable 
place  assigned  to  men  of  substance.  No 
man  is  quite  respectable  in  this  nineteenth 
century  who  has  not  a  bank  account.  True 
or  false,  high  or  low,  this  is  the  solid  fact, 
and,  for  one,  I  do  not  quarrel  with  it.  As 
most  of  us  are  situated  in  this  world,  we 
must  win  this  place  and  pay  its  price.  The 
common  cry  of  "  a  good  time  while  we  are 
young  "  is  not  the  price  nor  the  way.  Mr. 
Nasmyth,  an  English  inventor  and  the  holder 
of  a  large  fortune  made  by  himself,  says :  "  If 
I  were  to  compress  into  one  sentence  the 
whole  of  my  experience,  and  offer  it  to  young 
men  as  a  rule  and  certain  receipt  for  success 
in  any  station,  it  would  be  comprised  in  these 
words,  Duty  first,  pleasure  second  !  From 
what  I  have  seen  of  young  men  and  their 
after  progress,  I  am  satisfied  that  what  is 
called  'bad  fortune,'  'ill  luck,'  is,  in  nine 
cases  out  of  ten,  simply  the  result  of  invert- 
ing the  above  maxim." 

"  Serve  a  noble  disposition,  though  poor," 
says  George  Herbert ;  "  the  time  comes  when 
he  will  repay  thee." 

We  cannot  properly  leave  our  subject  un- 
til we  have  referred  to  spending ;  for  thrift 
consists  in  the  putting  out,  as  well  as  the  in- 


98  THRIFT. 

gathering,  of  money.  It  decides  how,  and 
to  what  extent,  we  shall  both  save  and  spend. 
We  must  leave  ample  room  for  the  play  of 
generosity  and  honor ;  we  must  meet  the  de- 
mands of  church  and  home  and  community 
with  a  wise  and  liberal  hand ;  we  must  pre- 
serve a  keen  and  governing  sense  of  steward- 
ship, never  forgetting  the  ultimate  use  of 
money,  and  the  moral  and  intellectual  reali- 
ties that  underlie  life.  This  matter  of  thrifty 
saving  is  instrumental,  —  simply  to  bring  us 
into  circumstances  where  self-respect,  a  sense 
of  independence  and  of  usefulness,  are  possi- 
ble ;  or,  putting  it  more  closely,  we  save  in 
order  to  get  into  the  freedom  of  our  nature. 
Were  the  wisdom  of  the  whole  subject  gath- 
ered into  one  phrase,  it  would  be :  when 
young,  save ;  when  old,  spend.  But  each 
must  have  something  of  the  spirit  of  the 
other  ;  save  generously,  spend  thriftily. 

If  I  were  to  name  a  general  principle  to 
cover  the  whole  matter,  I  would  say  :  spend 
upward,  that  is,  for  the  higher  faculties. 
Spend  for  the  mind  rather  than  for  the 
body ;  for  culture  rather  than  for  amusement. 
The  very  secret  and  essence  of  thrift  consists 
in  getting  things  into  higher  values.  As  the 
clod  turns  into  a  flower,  and  the  flower  in- 


THRIFT.  99 

spires  a  poet ;  as  bread  becomes  vital  force, 
and  vital  force  feeds  moral  purpose  and  aspi- 
ration, so  should  all  our  saving  and  out-go 
have  regard  to  the  higher  ranges  and  appe- 
tites of  our  nature.  If  you  have  a  dollar,  or 
a  hundred,  to  spend,  put  it  into  something 
above  the  average  of  your  nature,  that  you 
may  be  attracted  to  it.  Beyond  what  is 
necessary  for  your  bodily  wants  and  well- 
being,  every  dollar  spent  for  the  body  is 
a  derogation  of  manhood.  Get  the  better 
thing,  never  the  inferior.  The  night  sup- 
per, the  ball,  the  drink,  the  billiard  table, 
the  minstrels,  —  enough  calls  of  this  sort 
there  are,  and  in  no  wise  modest  in  their 
demands,  but  they  issue  from  below  you. 
Go  buy  a  book  instead,  or  journey  abroad, 
or  bestow  a  gift. 

I  have  not  urged  thrift  upon  you  for  its 
own  sake,  nor  merely  that  you  may  be  kept 
from  poverty,  nor  even  for  the  ease  it  brings, 
but  because  it  lies  near  to  all  the  virtues  and 
antagonizes  all  the  vices.  It  is  the  conserv- 
ing and  protecting  virtue.  It  makes  soil 
and  atmosphere  for  all  healthy  growths.  It 
favors  a  full  manhood.  It  works  against  the 
very  faults  it  seems  to  invite,  and  becomes 
the  reason  and  inspiration  of  generosity. 


V. 

SELF-RELIANCE  AND  COURAGE. 


"  And  having  done  all,  to  stand.    Stand,  therefore."  — 
ST.  PAUL. 


"  *  Hell  (a  wise  man  has  said)  is  paved  with  good  inten- 
tions.' Pluck  up  the  stones,  ye  sluggards,  and  break  the 
devil's  head  with  them."  —  GUESSES  AT  TRUTH. 

"A  mass,  that  is  to  say,  collective  mediocrity. " — 
JOHN  STUART  MILL. 

"  This  above  all :  to  thine  own  self  be  true ; 
And  it  must  follow,  as  the  night  the  day, 
Thou  canst  not  then  be  false  to  any  man." 

HAMLET,  i.  3. 

"  Ask  thy  lone  soul  what  laws  are  plain  to  thee, 
Thee  and  no  other,  —  stand  or  fall  by  them ! 
This  is  the  part  for  thee  ;  regard  all  else 
For  what  they  may  be,  —  Time's  illusion." 

BROWNING. 


v. 

SELF-RELIANCE   AND   COURAGE. 

So  far  we  have  spoken  chiefly  of  conduct ; 
in  this  chapter  we  speak  of  that  interior 
thing  which  we  call  selfhood  or  personality. 
To  get  a  clear,  full  sense  of  it  is  a  great 
achievement,  leading  as  it  does  to  this  qual- 
ity or  state  of  self-reliance.  No  man  is  self- 
reliant;  or  has  intelligent  courage,  until  he 
has  come  to  a  thorough  sense  of  himself ;  not 
in  any  way  of  conceit  or  self-complacency, 
but  by  a  deliberate  survey  and  examination 
of  himself,  as  if  from  the  outside. 

I  think  we  may  all  agree  with  Humboldt 
that  the  aim  of  man  should  be  to  secure 
"  the  highest  and  most  harmonious  develop- 
ment of  his  powers  to  a  complete  and  con- 
sistent whole  ;  "  or,  as  we  said  in  the  first 
chapter,  "  to  make  the  most  of  himself." 
This  is  the  specific  work  of  civilization,  — 
to  get  the  individual  out  of  the  mass  and 
exalt  him  into  personality.  In  savagery  one 
is  the  duplicate  of  another.  In  civilization 


104      SELF-RELIANCE  AND   COURAGE. 

there  is  variety,  or  rather  individuality,  in 
the  exact  degree  of  the  civilization.  It 
comes  about,  as  Mr.  Mill  tells  us,  through 
"  freedom  and  variety  of  situations."  Free- 
dom takes  off  the  restraints,  so  that  what- 
ever is  in  the  man  comes  out.  Civilization 
offers  the  variety  of  situations  needful  for 
developing  and  confirming  the  individual 
traits.  Thus  there  will  be  the  most  of 
strong,  distinct  character  where  there  is  the 
largest  freedom  and  the  most  complex  civil- 
ization. In  simpler  form,  freedom  gives  us 
a  chance ;  civilization  stimulates  us. 

Other  things,  indeed,  help  to  bring  out 
individuality.  Necessity  spurs  a  man,  and 
opportunities  allure  him.  Both  have  had 
full  play  in  this  country.  Poverty  on  one 
hand  and  ungathered  wealth  on  the  other, 
—  these  have  largely  created  the  American 
type.  Hence  in  a  new  country  almost  every 
man  is  what  is  called  "a  character."  I 
think  I  noticed  in  California  a  sharper  indi- 
viduality than  I  see  in  New  England.  The 
Englishman  feels  uncomfortably  the  broad 
and  pronounced  diversity  of  character  he 
finds  here,  and  we  are  obliged  to  confess 
that  English  society  is  just  a  little  weari- 
some from  the  lack  of  it, 


SELF-RELIANCE  AND   COURAGE.      105 

Religion  also  influences  individuality.  A 
superstition,  a  fixed  form,  a  false  faith,  or  a 
false  rendering  of  the  true  faith,  represses 
individuality.  Idolaters  and  bigots  resem- 
ble one  another  and  are  herd-like,  but  a  faith 
like  Christianity,  that  is  full  of  freedom  and 
is  throughout  keyed  to  conscience,  stimu- 
lates individuality.  All  along  it  has  blos- 
somed out  into  great  original  characters,  — 
poets,  statesmen,  inventors,  navigators,  ex- 
plorers, philanthropists.  It  was  the  secret 
of  the  Reformation  that  it  restored  to  Chris- 
tianity its  normal  order  of  freedom,  long  in- 
terrupted ;  when  the  pressure  was  taken  off, 
all  Europe  burst  into  a  brilliancy  of  thought 
and  discovery  such  as  the  world  had  never 
seen.  The  literature  of  the  Elizabethan 
age  outranks  that  of  Greece,  not  in  perfec- 
tion of  form,  but  because  it  is  instinct  with 
a  freedom  not  to  be  found  in  the  ancients. 
Shakespeare  may  not  be  so  great  an  artist 
as  Sophocles,  but  he  stimulates  character  as 
the  Greek  did  not.  I  would  like  to  remind 
young  men  in  these  days  of  insinuating, 
slighting  infidelity  that  the  glory  and  force 
of  modern  civilization  is  the  direct  and  logi- 
cal outcome  of  Christianity.  Its  root-idea 
is  deliverance.  It  first  freed  the  human 


106      SELF-RELIANCE  AND    COURAGE. 

mind  and  then  inspired  it.  It  is  something 
more  than  a  matter  of  church  and  Bible ;  it 
is  a  life-giving  spirit ;  it  is  an  atmosphere ; 
it  is  the  soul  of  the  world. 

Race  also  has  much  to  do  with  individu- 
ality. The  blood  that  has  force  and  courage 
in  it  produces  the  widest  variety  of  charac- 
ter. It  is  significant  that  Christianity  allies 
itself  most  readily  to  the  strongest  races,  en- 
tering into  them  as  quicksilver  mingles  with 
u  gold.  The  strong  race  opposes  it  at  first 
with  the  stoutest  will,  and  questions  it  with 
the  profoundest  interrogation,  but  at  length 
accepts  it,  because,  at  bottom,  they  sympa- 
thize. A  weak  race  debases  Christianity 
when  it  receives  it ;  it  cannot  stand  up  under 
its  stout  duties,  but  the  strong  race  takes  it 
at  its  full  measure. 

This  Anglo-Saxon  blood  of  ours,  with  its 

/    refining  strain  of  Norman,  is  the  best  in  the 

S  world.    It  contains  the  virtues  as  a  heritage, 

and  holds  the  vices  as  alien.     It  honors  mar- 

[    jiage  and  the  home ;  it  speaks  the  truth";  it 

"~~is  honest ;  it  is  rich,  comprehensive,  charged 

with   the  widest   possibilities.      Its    inmost 

quality  is  force,  hence  its  clearest  exponent 

is  individuality.     It  tends  to  erect  each  niaii 

into  a  full-rounded   person,  whence  comes 


SELF-RELIANCE  AND   COURAGE.      107 

liberty ;  for  liberty  is  but  the  assertion  of 
personality,  with  its  rights  and  obligations. 
Such  it  has  been  of  old  and  hitherto ;  let 
us  hope  that  it  will  never  lose  this  quality. 
Some  one,  I  have  forgotten  who,  has  pointed 
out  the  significant  fact  that  the  god  of  our 
Scandinavian  ancestors  was  not  a  Zeus  hurl- 
ing thunderbolts,  but  a  Thor  wielding  a 
hammer ;  the  Greek  god  shed  arrows  of 
fate  ;  the  Scandinavian  beat  down  obstacles. 
An  old  Norseman,  not  mythologic,  had  for 
a  crest  a  pickaxe,  with  the  motto :  "  Either 
I  will  find  a  way  or  make  one."  And  an- 
other said,  "  I  believe  neither  in  idols  nor 
demons  ;  I  put  my  sole  trust  in  my  own 
strength  of  body  and  soul." 

Just  because  tho  main  quality  of  this 
blood  is  force,  it  retains  this  characteristic. 
Not  every  youth,  with  this  forceful  blood 
in  his  veins,  carries  Thor's  hammer  in  his 
hand,  but  it  is  hidden  somewhere  about  him. 
To  get  it  into  the  strong  right  hand,  where 
it  can  be  wielded  against  the  obstacles  in 
the  way  of  manhood,  is  the  business  before 
us. 

When  one  rides  through  Italy  and  sees 
the  brawny  peasants  stretched  at  ease  by 
the  roadside,  one  reflects  that  they  have  a 


108      SELF-RELIANCE  AND   COURAGE. 

justification  in  their  blood.  But  a  lazy,  list- 
less, forceless  Anglo-Saxon  is  a  contradiction 
of  his  own  nature. 

The  most  notable  exhibitions  of  this  blood 
are  to  be  seen  in  its  emigrations.  A  factory 
stretching  across  a  valley  indicates  energy, 
but  it  does  not  reveal  the  particular  quality 
of  self-reliance  as  does  the  emigration  of  a 
man  from  the  East  to  the  frontier.  The 
ancient  emigrations  were  in  masses ;  the 
Anglo-Saxon  does  not  wait  for  his  neighbor, 
but  takes  counsel  with  himself,  gathers  to- 
gether his  family,  and  starts.  Men  do  few 
braver  things.  I  have  never  been  prouder 
of  my  race  than  when  I  have  come  across, 
perched  upon  a  swell  of  endless,  desolate  prai- 
rie in  Nebraska,  or  hidden  in  some  remote 
glen  of  the  Sierras,  the  rough  dwelling  of 
a  white-skinned  settler,  come  there  in  the 
mighty  strength  of  his  self-reliance  to  build 
a  home  and  hammer  out  a  fortune  with  this 
same  hammer  of  Thor.  He  is  not  a  Mexi- 
can wandering  with  his  herds,  or  "  white 
trash  "  crowded  to  the  frontier,  but  one  of 
Bacon's  "  founders."  All  English  history 
is  behind  him  and  in  him.  He  not  only 
wins  a  living,  but  subdues  nature  to  his  use 
and  taste,  and  makes  soil  and  tree  and  ore 


SELF-RELIANCE  AND   COURAGE.      109 

tributary  to  his  grandly-conceived  selfhood. 
He  is  a  person  —  quite  conscious  of  the  fact ; 
he  wants  what  belongs  to  a  man,  and  by 
the  aid  of  Thor's  hammer,  he  will  get  it. 
Put  a  few  of  these  Anglo-Saxons  down  any- 
where on  the  continent,  and  forthwith  they 
bring  all  civilization  to  their  doors. 

Another  feature  of  this  civilization  is  its 
expansive  character,  its  tendency  to  com- 
plexity, adding  something  new  and  perma- 
nent every  year.  What  it  will  attain  to 
when  it  has  cleared  all  traditional  obstacles 
out  of  its  way,  and  got  into  full  freedom,  is 
beyond  conception,  because  we  have  no  con- 
ception of  what  is  in  man. 

The  thing  I  wish  to  get  before  young  men 
is,  that  they  are  summoned  by  inheritance 
to  a  very  lofty  type  of  self-reliance  and  man- 
hood. But  we  sometimes  fail  of  our  birth- 
right. Other  influences  may  work  against 
inborn  tendency  and  force,  and  all  good 
things  need  culture.  Necessity  is  the  spur 
to  self-reliance;  a  noble  pride  and  self-re- 
spect are  its  atmosphere.  Where  there  is 
wealth  the  spur  is  apt  to  lose  its  sharpness, 
and  often  self-respect  is  smothered  under  an 
accumulation  of  social  influences. 

My  first  direct  word  on  the  subject  will 


110      SELF-RELIANCE  AND   COURAGE. 

be  an  appeal  to  young  men  to  realize,  each 
one  for  himself,  that  he  is  a  person. 

It  is  not  every  man  who  has  said  to  him- 
self, "  I  am  I ;  I  am  not  another,  but  I  am 
myself."  There  are  many  who  have  not 
yet  ascertained  whether  they  are  themselves 
or  some  one  else,  and  are  quite  as  often  one 
as  the  other  ;  many  who  do  not  get  them- 
selves detached  from  the  mass  of  humanity, 
but  live  and  act  out  of  the  common  stock  of 
thought  and  feeling.  When  a  man  agrees 
with  everything  I  say,  however  carelessly  I 
am  talking,  there  is  really  but  one  of  us. 
When  Hamlet  likened  the  cloud  to  a  camel, 
a  weasel,  and  a  whale,  and  Polonius  assented, 
there  was  but  one  person  in  the  colloquy ; 
Polonius  was  nobody.  To  be  a  person,  to 
have  opinions  and  respect  them,  —  this  is 
something  at  once  necessary  and  difficult, 
because  at  the  same  time  a  young  man 
should  heed  and  value  the  opinions  of  others, 
and  steer  wide  of  the  slough  of  conceit.  At 
one  extreme  is  the  young  man  who  agrees 
with  everybody,  and  goes  with  the  crowd ;  at 
the  other  is  one  who  knows  everything  and 
has  settled  all  questions.  The  latter  may 
be  the  more  odious  at  present,  but  he  will 
turn  out  better.  His  mates  will  kick  a  part 


SELF-RELIANCE  AND   COURAGE.      Ill 

of  his  folly  out  of  him,  and  contact  with  the 
world  will  wear  away  the  rest,  leaving  him  a 
substantial  person,  while  the  other,  having 
no  inherent  shape,  will  be  moulded  over  and 
over  to  the  end.  He  is  pious  or  wicked, 
Republican  or  Democrat,  liberal  or  bigot, 
according  to  the  strongest  influence ;  the 
better  reason  has  little  weight  with  him. 
Without  doubt,  one  should  hold  himself 
open  to  all  good  influences,  but  the  main 
question,  after  all,  is  whether  one  is  a  mind 
to  be  convinced,  or  simply  a  mass  to  be 
moulded  and  attracted.  Every  public 
speaker  knows  that  those  who  flutter  about 
him  with  readiest  assent  are  not  the  ones 
best  worth  convincing.  I  have  little  fear 
for  the  self-opinionated  young  man.  The 
kind  wise  world  has  rods  in  keeping  that 
will  take  the  conceit  out  of  him.  I  fear  for 
him  who  goes  with  the  crowd  and  draws  his 
opinions  and  sentiments  from  the  common 
stock.  I  hate  to  hear  a  young  man  say, 
"  They  all  do  it,"  —  a  very  shabby  and 
odious  phrase.  I  hate  to  see  a  young  man 
jump  into  the  current  that  happens  to  be 
nearest,  or  just  now  most  impetuous,  — 
whether  it  be  good  or  bad,  and  float  with  it 
for  sake  of  the  company.  It  were  better  to 


112      SELF-RELIANCE  AND   COURAGE. 

be  borne  by  some  stream  of  native  feeling 
or  personal  conviction,  or  to  stand  stock  still 
while  the  mindless  crowd  sweeps  by.  One 
should  always  question  the  prevailing  craze, 
whatever  it  is,  till  he  finds  out  if  it  has  a 
reason  for  him  in  it.  It  is  true  that  men 
move  in  masses,  that  there  is  a  gregarious 
instinct,  that  great  passions  and  purposes 
often  make  whole  populations  as  one  man, 
but  they  are  movements  that  need  to  be 
carefully  scrutinized.  Those  that  have 
swept  over  our  country  have  not  been  very 
creditable  to  it  and  have  forced  us  to  wear 
national  sackcloth.  I  do  not  urge  stolid 
insensibility  to  a  prevailing  enthusiasm. 
There  is  no  objection  to  marching  in  a  pro- 
cession and  throwing  one's  cap  in  air,  but 
it  is  imperative  that  one  should  know  why  he 
does  it.  Still,  marching  in  a  procession  is 
not  the  noblest  way.  One  admires  rather 
the  self-poise  of  Fichte  who  kept  at  his 
books  while  the  drums  of  Napoleon  were 
sounding  in  his  ears.  Napoleon  might  be  a 
very  grand  phenomenon,  as  he  admitted, 
but  he  —  Fichte  —  was  also  a  phenomenon 
that  he  felt  bound  to  respect.  As  a  rule, 
resist  the  gregarious  habit ;  suspect  the 
crowd,  and  before  you  march  in  companies, 


SELF-RELIANCE  AND   COURAGE.      113 

of  whatever  sort,  find  out  if  you  are  march- 
ing to  please  yourself  or  the  captain.  There 
is  a  great  deal  of  organization  and  associ- 
ation that  has  for  its  end  the  delectation  of 
the  leaders  at  the  expense  of  subordinates. 
It  is  well  to  say  ;  "  I  will  consult  myself  on 
this  matter ;  I  will  find  out  if  it  is  agreeable 
and  wise  for  this  person  that  I  am." 

The  most  heavily  charged  words  in  our 
language  are  those  two  briefest  ones,  Yes 
and  No.  One  stands  for  the  surrender  of 
the  will,  the  other  for  denial ;  one  for  grati- 
fication, the  other  for  character.  Plutarch 
says  that  "  the  inhabitants  of  Asia  come  to 
be  vassals  to  one  only,  for  not  having  been 
able  to  pronounce  one  syllable,  which  is 
No."  A  stout  No  means  a  stout  character  ; 
the  ready  Yes  means  a  weak  one,  gild  it  as 
we  may. 

Practically,  an  attitude  something  like 
this  is  wise  ;  when  a  proposal  is  made,  con- 
sider it  probable  that  there  is  as  much 
reason  for  refusing  as  for  assenting.  Will 
you  go  with  me,  drink  with  me,  play  with 
me?  For  such  questions  and  all  others 
have  the  No  as  convenient  as  the  Yes.  In- 
deed, when  one  thinks  of  the  power  of  fash- 
ion and  custom,  it  seems  well  to  have  the 


114      SELF-RELIANCE  AND   COURAGE. 

No  somewhat  readier.  The  vices  are  hardly 
more  the  result  of  appetite  than  of  custom. 
There  have  been  periods  and  communities 
in  which  nearly  all  were  pure  and  temperate  ; 
it  was  the  custom.  The  thing  to  be  feared 
for  young  men  at  present  is  unquestioned 
assent  to  what  is  customary  in  the  habits  of 
certain  circles  of  their  number.  There  is  fear- 
ful power  in  those  four  little  words,  "  They 
all  do  it."  To  resist  the  crowd,  to  hold  the 
scales  of  right  and  wrong  in  your  own  hand, 
to  realize  that  whole  masses  may  go  wrong, 
that  common  custom  may  be  vile,  to  stand 
erect  and  within  the  inclosure  of  your  self- 
respect,  this  is  a  prime  feature  of  manhood. 

We  must  now  look  somewhat  into  the 
methods  of  the  culture  of  this  fine  quality. 

1.  Education,  of  course,  is  its  essential 
condition.  The  ignorant  herd  together, 
think,  feel,  act  alike  ;  but  your  trained  man 
suspects  the  crowd.  He  feels  its  encroach- 
ments on  his  personality.  He  fears  lest  it 
may  steal  his  decision  away  from  him  by 
brute  force.  He  is  sufficient  to  himself,  and 
stands  on  self -grounded  reasons  and  habits. 
But  while  this  process  of  education  that  is 
to  bring  us  into  full  self-reliance  is  going 
on,  we  must  help  it  in  special  ways. 


SELF-RELIANCE  AND   COURAGE.       115 

2.  Secure  for  yourself  some  regular  pri- 
vacy of  life.  As  George  Herbert  says,  "  By 
all  means,  use  sometimes  to  be  alone."  God 
has  put  us  each  into  a  separate  body.  We 
should  follow  the  divine  hint,  and  see  to  it 
that  we  do  not  lapse  again  into  the  general 
flood  of  being.  Many  persons  cannot  endure 
being  alone  ;  they  are  lost  unless  there  is  a 
clatter  of  tongues  in  their  ears.  It  is  not 
only  weak,  but  it  fosters  weakness.  The 
gregarious  instinct  is  animal,  —  the  sheep 
and  deer  living  on  in  us ;  to  be  alone  is  spir- 
itual. We  can  have  no  clear  personal  judg- 
ment of  things  till  we  are  somewhat  separate 
from  them.  Mr.  Webster  used  to  say  of  a 
difficult  question  :  "  Let  me  sleep  on  it."  It 
was  not  merely  for  morning  vigor,  but  to 
get  the  matter  at  a  distance  where  he  could 
measure  its  proportions  and  see  its  relations. 
So  it  is  well  at  times  to  get  away  from  our 
world  —  companions,  actions,  work  —  in  or- 
der to  measure  it,  and  ascertain  our  relations 
to  it.  The  moral  use  of  the  night  is  in  the 
isolation  it  brings,  shutting  out  the  world 
from  the  senses  that  it  may  be  realized  in 
thought.  It  is  very  simple  advice,  but  worth 
heeding;  get  some  moments  each  day  to 
yourself ;  take  now  and  then  a  solitary  walk ; 


116      SELF-RELIANCE  AND   COURAGE. 

get  into  the  silence  of  thick  woods,  or  some 
other  isolation  as  deep,  and  suffer  the  mys- 
terious sense  of  selfhood  to  steal  upon  you, 
as  it  surely  will.  Pythagoras  insisted  on  an 
hour  of  solitude  every  day,  to  meet  his  own 
mind  and  learn  what  oracle  it  had  to  im- 
part. 

3.  I  name  a  delicate  point  when  I  say : 
cultivate  a  sense  of  personal  dignity,  have 
bounds  to  familiarity.     Noli  me  tangere  — 
touch  me  not  —  is  the  utterance  of  a  divine 
dignity.     There   is   a  subtle   law  by  which 
greatness  and  excellence  create  a  sense  of 
separation.     Refined  manners  forbid  exces- 
sive  familiarity,   not    simply   as    etiquette, 
but    because   they   contribute   to   selfhood. 
Hence    the   well-bred   scrupulously   respect 
each  other's  persons,  down  to  the  smallest 
particular.     The   very   touch   of   the   hand 
is  instinct  with  delicate  respect.     No  self-re- 
specting man  will  suffer  his  body,  or  mind, 
or  soul   to  be  slapped  on  the  back.    Thus 
instinct  and   manners   unconsciously  guard 
personality,  and  secure  to  it  room  and  air 
for  growth. 

4.  Have  no  fear  of   unpopularity.     I  do 
not  say,  court    it,  but  do   not   think  much 
about  it  nor  dread  it,  if  it  comes  from  the 


SELF-RELIANCE  AND   COURAGE.      117 

assertion  of  your  manhood.  There  is  no 
time  when  the  pressure  of  opinion  is  so 
strong  as  in  early  life.  It  is  something  fear- 
ful in  its  power  in  college,  and  wherever  else 
young  persons  are  brought  into  close  and 
daily  contact.  When  a  young  man  says  of 
another,  "he  is  popular,'*  he  says  what  he 
considers  the  best  possible  thing ;  but  if  "  un- 
popular," the  worst.  I  do  not  deny  that 
there  may  be  some  reality  of  truth  in  this ; 
but  I  protest  against  the  slavishness  it  be- 
gets. To  court  popularity,  to  unduly  dread 
the  loss  of  it,  is  a  denial  of  selfhood.  It 
puts  the  standard  of  judgment  in  another 
instead  of  retaining  it  in  yourself.  You  like 
the  good  opinion  of  others ;  it  is  well  ?  but 
first  have  a  good  opinion  of  yourself.  It  is 
well  to  respect  others ;  very  true ;  but  first 
respect  yourself.  "If  I  do  so  and  so,  what 
will  others  think  of  me  ?  '*  But  what  will 
you  think  of  yourself  ?  "  If  I  refuse  to  do 
this  or  that,  I  shall  lose  my  place  in  so- 
ciety." But  is  it  worse  than  being  turned 
out  of  yourself  ?  "I  fear  I  shall  be  unpop- 
ular." Fear  rather  being  unpopular  with 
yourself,  for  the  soul  of  man  is  a  sort  of 
community ;  conscience,  taste,  self-respect, 
will,  honor,  judgment,  —  these  are  its  citi- 


118      SELF-RELIANCE  AND   COURAGE. 

zens,  whose  suffrages  are  more  to  be  desired 
than  those  of  the  whole  world  beside. 

To  make  popularity  a  guide  is  to  come 
into  middle  life  weak,  and  into  age  crip- 
plefl.  Self  evaporates  under  the  process, 
and  when  the  flattering  voices  have  died  out, 
—  there  being  no  longer  anything  to  ap- 
peal to  them,  —  emptiness  and  weariness  are 
all  that  remain.  There  is  no  old  age  that 
is  so  dreary  as  that  of  one  who  has  lived 
on  popular  applause.  Even  religion  cannot 
comfort  one  who  has  frittered  away  his  self- 
hood in  a  steady  strife  after  popularity ;  the 
very  mechanism  by  which  it  operates  is 
gone. 

5.  Keep  steadily  before  you  the  fact  that 
all  true  success  depends  at  last  upon  your- 
self, —  trite  to  weariness,  I  acknowledge, 
but  a  truth  never  to  be  overlooked;  the 
tritest  is  always  the  truest. 

By  nature  we  are  weak ;  our  destiny  is  to 
become  strong ;  but  we  shun  destiny,  and 
lean  to  our  first  characteristic.  Who  will 
help  me  ?  What  can  I  depend  on  ?  These 
are  our  first  natural  questions.  But  we  do 
not  get  on  the  track  of  success  until  we  drop 
all  such  questioning,  and  begin  to  realize 
that  we  must  depend  upon  ourselves.  By 


SELF-RELIANCE  AND   COURAGE.      119 

success  I  mean  a  full  manhood  and  its  in- 
herent peace.  This  is  not  possible  until 
one  has  planted  himself  upon  his  own  pow- 
ers and  begun  to  work  from  them.  He 
may  have  money,  friends,  chances,  good  for- 
tune, but  that  which  underlies  achievement 
is  the  ability  of  the  man  himself.  If  suc- 
cess comes  from  without,  it  will  be  fictitious, 
and  will  fail  to  make  returns  of  happiness. 
When  it  flowers  out  of  one's  own  energies, 
it  is  a  vital  and  ministering  thing.  Sir 
Fowell  Buxton  said :  "  The  longer  I  live,  the 
more  I  am  certain  that  the  great  difference 
between  men,  between  the  feeble  and  the 
powerful,  the  great  and  the  insignificant,  is 
energy,  invincible  determination.  That  qual- 
ity will  do  anything  that  can  be  done  in 
this  world ;  and  no  talents,  no  circumstances, 
no  opportunities,  will  make  a  two-legged 
creature  a  man  without  it,"  In  the  same 
strain,  President  Porter :  "  Energy,  invin- 
cible determination,  with  a  right  motive,  are 
the  levers  that  move  the  world/' 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  self  is 
the  only  certain  reliance.  Money,  family, 
friends,  circumstances,  —  these  come  and 
go  on  the  uncertain  tide  of  time.  The  old 
Norseman  was  right:  on  neither  idols  nor 


120      SELF-RELIANCE  AND   COURAGE. 

demons,  upon  nothing  but  the  strength  of 
his  own  body  and  soul,  would  he  depend. 
There  must  be,  however,  a  self  to  depend  on. 
Self  is  not  a  whim;  it  is  not  impulse,  nor 
ambition,  nor  a  flux  of  motives,  but  a  sub- 
stantial person  grounded  in  intelligence  and 
will  and  moral  sense. 

1  have  not  distinguished  between  self-reli- 
ance and  courage,  because  they  so  inter- 
penetrate each  other.  Courage  may  be  re- 
garded as  the  refinement  of  self-reliance,  — 
the  spirit-side  to  that  of  which  self-reliance 
is  the  mind-side.  When  one  says,  Be  self- 
reliant,  he  speaks  to  the  will  and  judgment; 
when  one  says,  Be  courageous,  he  addresses 
the  heart  and  spirit. 

I  would  have  you  regard  courage  as  nearly 
the  supreme  quality  in  character.  One  may 
become  rich  without  it ;  one  may  live  a 
"  good  easy  "  life  without  it,  but  not  a  full 
and  noble  life.  It  is  the  quality  by  which 
one  rises  in  the  line  of  each  faculty ;  it  is 
the  wings  that  turn  dull  plodding  into  flight. 
It  is  courage  especially  that  redeems  life 
from  the  curse  of  commonness. 

Before  leaving  the  subject,  I  would  like 
to  set  it  distinctly  against  a  disposition  grow- 
ing somewhat  common,  I  fear,  to  settle 


SELF-RELIANCE  AND   COURAGE.      121 

down  into  a  purposeless  enjoyment  of  the 
present ;  a  life  without  earnestness  or  aspi- 
ration ;  a  life  that  aims  only  at  "  having  a 
good  time,"  -  -  a  weak  and  beggarly  phrase. 
The  essential  characteristic  of  this  life  is 
that  it  lacks  courage,  —  the  fine  high  spirit 
that  disdains  the  common  life,  and  dares  the 
future  for  a  nobler  one,  "  the  dauntless  spirit 
of  resolution,"  Shakespeare  calls  it.  Is 
it  true  that  young  men  are  regarding  life 
less  ideally;  that  some  mist  bred  of  pros- 
perous times  has  come  into  the  air,  obscur- 
ing the  stars,  and  shutting  up  the  vision  to 
what  is  near  and  palpable  ?  Is  Thor's  ham- 
mer gone  from  their  hands  ?  We  will  hope 
that  it  is  but  a  mist  blinding  their  eyes,  and 
that  we  shall  again  see  young  men  drawn  on 
by  noble  ambitions  and  high  ideals. 

It  would  be  most  incomplete  to  speak  of 
courage  without  reference  to  the  hedged-in 
fields  of  life. 

The  burdens  of  life  do  not  always  fall 
upon  the  mature  and  aged.  Life  often  takes 
on  its  most  grievous  and  binding  form  in 
the  young.  Poverty,  toil,  sickness,  imper- 
fect education,  premature  responsibility,  — 
many  of  you,  I  know,  bear  these  burdens. 
44  What  is  all  this  to  me  ?  I  can  attempt 


122      SELF-RELIANCE  AND   COURAGE. 

nothing  great  or  high ;  I  have  no  future  but 
to  keep  straight  on;  for  me  to  aspire  and 
plan  is  folly."  It  may  be  so,  but  there  is 
one  thing  you  can  do,  and  it  is  the  best  thing 
any  man  can  do,  in  this  world,  —  you  can 
keep  up  good  heart.  This  is  courage,  in- 
deed ;  —  to  look  into  a  dull  future  and 
smile ;  to  stay  bound  and  not  chafe  under 
the  cords ;  to  endure  pain  and  keep  the 
cheer  of  health ;  to  see  hopes  die  out  and 
not  sink  into  brutish  despair ;  —  here  is 
courage  before  which  we  may  pause  with 
reverence  and  admiration.  It  is  so  high 
that  we  link  it  with  divine  things,  carry- 
ing it  quite  beyond  the  sphere  of  any  earthly 
success. 


VI. 
HEALTH. 


"  Health  is  the  perfect  balance  between  our  organism, 
•with  all  its  component  parts,  and  the  outer  world."  — 
AMIEL'S  JOURNAL. 

"  Though  the  mills  of  God  grind  slowly, 

Yet  they  grind  exceeding  small ; 
Though  with  patience  He  stands  waiting, 
With  exactness  grinds  He  all." 

LONGFELLOW. 

"  A  sound  heart  is  the  life  of  the  flesh."  —  SOLOMON. 

"  Though  I  look  old,  yet  I  am  strong  and  lusty; 
For  in  my  youth  I  never  did  apply 
Hot  and  rebellious  liquors  in  my  blood  ; 
Nor  did  not  with  unbashf ul  forehead  woo 
The  means  of  weakness  and  debility  ; 
Therefore  my  age  is  as  a  lusty  winter, 
Frosty  but  kindly." 

As  You  LIKE  IT,  ii.  3. 

"  Now,  good  digestion  wait  on  appetite, 
And  health  on  both !  " 

MACBETH,  iii.  4. 


VI. 

HEALTH. 

THE  questions  now  coming  into  promi- 
nence pertain  chiefly  to  social  science. 
While  there  are  political  and  religious 
questions  that  still  vex  and  interest  society, 
it  is  plainly  to  be  seen  that  the  eye  of  the 
world  is  fixed  on  this  matter  of  living ;  an 
art  it  is  getting  to  be  called.  It  has  never 
yet  seriously  engaged  the  attention  of  the 
people ;  it  is  a  new  subject,  and  not  fairly 
before  us.  The  Greeks  gave  great  heed  to 
the  individual  body,  and  the  Romans  secured 
personal  cleanliness  by  their  vast  system  of 
baths,  but  neither  seems  to  have  had  any 
conception  of  the  public  health  ;  hence,  with 
all  their  fine  training  and  care  of  the  body, 
their  cities  were  subject  to  pestilence,  and 
the  average  of  life  remained  at  a  low  point. 
The  only  successful  attempt  to  connect 
hygiene  with  the  social  order  was  made  by 
Moses,  who  interwove  its  requirements  with 


126  HEALTH. 

those  of  religion.  If  this  critical  genera- 
tion could  be  diverted  for  a  moment  from 
the  "  mistakes  of  Moses  "  to  some  thought 
of  his  measures  that  were  not  mistakes,  it 
would  find  itself  in  possession  of  some  very 
suggestive  facts.  No  nation  has  been  so 
exempt  from  contagious  and  hereditary  dis- 
ease as  the  Jews,  or  can  show  vital  statis- 
tics so  remarkable.  There  is  no  question 
but  that  this  racial  vitality  and  toughness  are 
due  to  certain  hygienic  rules  which  Moses 
made  effective  and  lasting  by  connecting 
them  with  religion,  where,  indeed,  they 
belong.  But,  aside  from  the  Jews  (and 
in  how  many  respects  are  they  an  excep- 
tional people),  the  art  of  health  is  a  mod- 
ern subject.  It  is  a  singular  fact  that  when 
men  first  reflectively  examined  themselves 
they  began  with  their  moral  nature,  then 
passed  to  their  minds,  which  is  as  far  as 
they  have  reached.  Strange  as  it  seems, 
it  is  the  natural  order,  and  shadows  a  tre- 
mendous truth,  —  morals  first,  mind  next, 
body  last.  It  is  the  eternal  and  fit  order. 
Aristotle  mapped  out  philosophy  and  morals 
in  lines  the  world  yet  accepts  in  the  main, 
but  he  did  not  know  the  difference  between 
the  nerves  and  the  tendons.  Rome  had  a 


HEALTH.  127 

sound  system  of  jurisprudence  before  it  had 
a  physician,  using  only  priestcraft  for  heal- 
ing. Cicero  was  the  greatest  lawyer  the 
world  has  seen,  but  there  was  not  a  man  in 
Rome  who  could  have  cured  him  of  a  colic. 
The  Greek  was  an  expert  dialectician  when 
he  was  using  incantations  for  his  diseases. 
As  late  as  when  the  Puritans  were  enun- 
ciating their  lofty  principles,  it  was  gener- 
ally held  that  the  king's  touch  would  cure 
scrofula.  Governor  Winthrop,  of  colonial 
days,  treated  "  small-pox  and  all  fevers  "  by 
a  powder  made  from  "  live  toads  baked  in 
an  earthen  pot  in  the  open  air."  And  even 
now,  in  New  England,  where  we  split  hairs 
in  theology,  and  can  show  a  philosopher  for 
every  square  mile,  at  least  one  half  of  the 
treatment  of  disease  is  empirical ;  that  is, 
there  is  no  ascertained  relation  between 
the  remedy  and  the  sickness ;  it  is  largely 
a  matter  of  advertisement  and  pretense. 
But  a  new  day  is  dawning.  Legislation  is 
crowding  the  quack  into  the  background, 
and  the  Board  of  Health  is  coming  to  the 
front. 

The  old  Greeks  put  health  so  high  as  to 
deify  it.  Hygeia  was  a  goddess,  young  and 
smiling  and  beautiful.  We  are  catching 


128  HEALTH. 

glimpses  of  her  laughing  face,  and  erelong 
we  shall  deify  her.  It  is  a  part  of  our  sin 
that  we  are  sick ;  it  should  be  a  part  of  our 
religion  to  be  well. 

I  say  all  this  to  young  men  because  it  is 
well  that  they  should  be  awake  to  the 
new  phases  of  society  that  are  coming  on. 
The  special  subjects  to  which  intelligent 
men  should  have  their  eyes  open  are  those 
pertaining  to  social  science,  the  sanitary 
condition  of  towns  and  cities,  all  matters 
of  drainage,  ventilation,  water-supply,  and 
house-building,  as  well  as  matters  pertaining 
to  personal  health  and  vigor.  If  any  edu- 
cated young  man  is  looking  about  for  a 
hobby,  let  me  suggest  that  here  is  one  that 
he  can  ride  to  better  purpose  than  any  other 
now  to  be  laid  hold  of. 

But  the  personal  side  of  the  subject  is  the 
one  before  us.  Evidently,  nothing  can  be 
more  personal,  more  literally  and  strictly 
vital,  than  bodily  health.  It  is  the  first  and 
the  perpetual  condition  of  success.  In  any 
enterprise  there  are  primary  and  secondary 
conditions  affecting  the  result.  In  making 
a  voyage  it  is  necessary  first  of  all  to  have  a 
ship  that  will  float  and  hold  together  till  the 
port  is  gained ;  it  may  spread  more  or  less 


HEALTH.  129 

canvas,  be  manned  by  few  or  many  sailors, 
be  navigated  with  more  or  less  skill,  be  fast 
or  slow,  be  driven  by  wind  or  steam,  — 
these  are  secondary  matters ;  the  ship  itself, 
stanch  enough  to  resist  the  waves,  is  the 
primary  condition  of  the  voyage.  So  in  this 
enterprise  and  voyage  of  life,  a  body  sound 
enough  to  hold  together  till  the  port  of 
threescore  and  ten  is  gained  comes  first  in 
all  wise  and  logical  consideration.  Talent, 
learning,  aptitude,  good  chances,  energy, 

—  these,  according  to  the  degree,  affect  the 
voyage,    and    make   it    smooth    or    rough, 
quick  or  slow,  but   they  do  not   determine 
whether  or  not  there  shall  be  a  voyage.     I 
do  not    say  that  these   are  to  be  regarded 
lightly,  or  other  than  as  large  factors,  but  I 
affirm  that  without   bodily  health  they  are 
in  vain  so  far  as  achievement  is  concerned. 
Energy,  purpose,  culture,  enthusiasm,  thrift, 

—  these   are   the   engine   that   propels   the 
man ;   but  an  engine   requires   first   of   all 
proper   bearings,  a  frame    stout  enough  to 
endure  the  strain  of   its  vibrations,  and  to 
convert  its  energy  into  steady  motion.     Pro- 
fessor  Huxley   goes   too   far,    however,    as 
he  is  prone  to  do,  when  he  says,    "  Give  a 
man  a  good   deep   chest  and  a  stomach  of 


130  HEALTH. 

which  he  never  knew  the  existence,  and 
he  must  succeed  in  any  practical  career." 
For  it  is  a  fact  that  a  vast  number  of  very 
worthless  beings  fulfill  these  conditions ; 
"  animated  patent  digesters,"  Carlyle  calls 
them,  whose  only  achievements  are  the  con- 
sumption of  food  and  oxygen.  Race  and 
brain  and  training  have  something  to  do 
with  success  in  practical  careers.  The  cap- 
tain on  the  bridge,  the  pilot  at  the  wheel, 
and  the  engineer  at  the  lever  are  conditions 
of  the  successful  voyage,  though  the  stanch- 
ness  of  the  ship  is  the  primary  condition. 

It  needs  but  a  glance,  however,  at  the 
men  who  have  succeeded  in  any  department 
to  perceive  that,  as  a  rule,  they  have  good 
bodies.  I  do  not  say  that  all  men  who  have 
achieved  success  have  lived  long,  or  been 
free  from  disease,  but  T  assert  that  it  is  im- 
possible to  name  a  man  great  in  any  de- 
partment of  life  who  did  not  possess  what  a 
physician  would  call  a  strong  vitality.  Many 
great  men  have  died  early  and  endured  life- 
long disease,  but  a  close  physiological  exam- 
ination would  show  that  they  were  largely 
endowed  with  nervous  energy  and  usually 
with  a  good  muscular  system,  I  grant  the 
rare  exception,  as  a  skiff  may  by  good  luck 


HEALTH.  131 

cross  the  Atlantic.  Nature  is  not  blind. 
She  does  not  put  great  engines  into  weak 
ships.  There  is  a  fallacy  in  the  common 
remark  that  the  mind  is  too  great  for  the 
body.  A  great  mind  may  overwork  and 
tear  in  pieces  even  a  good  body,  but,  for  the 
most  part,  any  body  properly  used  and  su- 
perintended is  strong  enough  to  uphold  and 
do  the  work  of  the  mind  lodged  in  it.  Man 
is  one ;  no  line  can  be  drawn  between  the 
working  functions  of  body  and  mind.  A 
part  of  all  mental  action  is  also  physical 
action.  Will  is  also  a  matter  of  nerves, 
energy  is  graduated  by  the  blood,  and  the 
finest  thought  stands  with  one  foot  upon 
tissue  of  brain.  By  its  very  definition  high 
thought  and  large  achievement  imply  a 
strong  physical  basis.  Burns  died  at  thirty- 
seven,  and  Byron  at  thirty-six,  both  of  dissi- 
pation, but  they  had  superb  bodies,  and,  at 
first,  exuberant  health.  Raphael  and  Robert- 
son died  at  the  same  age  with  Burns,  —  one 
of  malarial  fever,  and  the  other  from  over- 
work and  worry,  —  neither  from  physical 
necessity.  Dr.  Bushnell  early  induced  con- 
sumption by  excessive  toil,  but  lived  toiling 
on  to  seventy.  When  great  men  die  early, 
it  is  almost  always  due  either  to  abuse,  or  to 


132  HEALTH. 

something  like  an  accident,  for  some  diseases 
bear  no  relation  to  physical  constitution. 
But  great  men  do  not  die  early.  Dr.  Dun- 
glison  says  that  the  average  longevity  of  the 
most  eminent  philosophers,  naturalists,  ar- 
tists, jurists,  physicians,  musical  composers, 
scholars,  and  authors,  including  poets,  who 
are  not  thought  to  be  long-lived,  is  sixty- 
six  years,  —  more  than  double  the  average 
length  of  human  life.  Such  facts  are  usu- 
ally regarded  as  showing  that  intellectual 
pursuits  are  favorable  to  longevity,  but  they 
rather  show  that  great  men  have  good  bod- 
ies. A  fine  engine  is  favorable  to  the  speed 
and  safety  of  the  voyage,  but  quite  as  much 
depends  upon  the  build  of  the  vessel,  and 
even  more  upon  how  both  are  handled. 

If  we  look  over  the  men  who  are  consid- 
ered successful  in  their  departments,  —  pro- 
fessional, manufacturing,  commercial,  finan- 
cial, —  we  shall  find  with  rare  exception 
that  they  have  certain  physical  characteris- 
tics which  are  the  primary  conditions  of  a 
strong  body  and  sound  health.  They  mea- 
sure large  around  the  chest ;  they  have  depth 
of  lung  and  good  stomachs  ;  their  muscular 
system  is  large  and  strong,  or,  if  small,  it 
is  fine  in  fibre  and  well  knit ;  they  have  a 


HEALTH.  133 

larger  brain  surface  than  the  average,  and 
are  without  hereditary  disease  that  early 
impairs  the  chief  functions.  I  do  not  say 
that  every  man  who  has  these  characteris- 
tics achieves  distinction,  but  that  no  man 
achieves  any  considerable  success  who  is 
without  them.  There  will  always  be  found 
a  certain  proportion  of  Carlyle's  "  animated 
patent  digesters "  with  a  perfect  physical 
make-up,  but  lacking  in  ways  that  do  not 
concern  us  here. 

You  will  also  find  that  the  measure  of 
success  is  usually  determined  by  the  manner 
in  which  the  owner  of  this  well-endowed 
body  treats  it.  If  the  functional  power  of 
lungs,  or  stomach,  or  nerves,  is  broken  down 
—  often  one  and  the  same  process  —  he 
ceases  in  exact  ratio  to  be  an  achiever.  His 
plans  may  go  on  of  themselves,  but  the  fresh 
creative  energy  is  graduated  by  his  bodily 
condition.  Force  no  longer  goes  into  his 
schemes,  if  it  has  passed  out  of  his  body. 

Your  physically  weak  man  may  get 
through  life  decently  and  honorably,  but  he 
seldom  gets  to  be  the  head  of  anything,  fore- 
man, or  superintendent,  or  agent,  or  presi- 
dent ;  he  never  climbs,  he  never  gets  out  of 
the  crowd. 


134  HEALTH. 

I  do  not  expect  any  denial  or  doubt  on 
these  points,  and  have  set  them  down  only 
to  get  you  to  thinking  on  the  subject.  I 
fear,  however,  lest  a  nearly  universal  illu- 
sion may  break  its  force.  The  first  boast  of 
childhood  reaches  a  long  way  into  manhood. 
However  thin  of  limb  and  narrow  of  chest, 
the  young  man  is  always  strong.  The  glory 
that  men  have  ever  put  upon  physical 
strength,  and  our  instinctive  sense  of  its 
excellence,  so  press  upon  us  that  we  hate  to 
confess  our  lack  of  it.  Hence  my  readers 
may  be  saying,  "  This  is  not  for  me,  but  for 
the  weakly  ones,"  who  are  not  anywhere  to 
be  found.  Disenchantment  is  painful,  but, 
in  truth,  not  every  young  man  is  a  Hercules. 
The  practical  harm  of  this  illusion  is  that 
we  presume  upon  it,  and  infer  that  we  can 
endure  any  strain  we  may  lay  upon  our- 
selves. 

But  what  of  athleticism?  Mr.  Hughes, 
its  early  apostle,  tells  us  that  it  has  come  to 
be  overpraised  and  overvalued.  It  is  un- 
doubtedly a  fine  thing,  but  it  has  led  to  an 
oversight  of  the  wiser  side  of  the  matter, 
namely,  the  preservation  and  care  of  the 
health,  which  is  not  entirely  the  same  thing 
as  physical  strength.  It  has  also  reached  a 


HEALTH.  135 

phase  where  the  element  of  sport  and  nat- 
ural exhilaration  is  taken  out  of  it.  They 
tell  us  that  our  national  vice  is  excess, — 
that  we  lack  the  sense  of  proportion.  Base- 
ball is  no  longer  a  minister  of  health  when 
a  reporter  sits  by,  and  the  cheers  or  jeers 
of  stake-holders  follow  the  player  around 
the  field.  It  is  unfortunate  that  this  game, 
which  Robert  Collyer  calls  "  the  healthiest 
and  handsomest  ever  played,"  has  been 
pushed  to  such  a  feverish  and  wild  excess 
by  fierce  competition  and  accessories  of  gam- 
bling. A  game  loses  its  value  to  health 
when  its  excitement  is  drawn  from  any  other 
source  than  from  the  game  itself.  Stakes 
mean  something  more  than  healthful  ex- 
hilaration. Competitive  walking  and  row- 
ing are  even  more  objectionable.  They  not 
only  engender  positive  disease,  but  the  whole 
atmosphere,  moral  and  social,  is  adverse  to 
health.  Hygeia  does  not  welcome  to  her 
shrine  the  heroes  of  the  bat  and  oar  and 
ring.  These  sports  may  be  used  health- 
wise,  but  as  soon  as  they  involve  the  exer- 
tion called  out  by  great  public  competition 
and  the  excitement  of  wager,  they  no  longer 
minister  to  health.  Unfortunately  the  tem- 
per of  the  age  does  not  favor  moderation. 


136  HEALTH. 

The  element  of  play  seems  lost,  and  a  hard 
vulgar  pride  of  superiority  has  taken  its 
place.  The  self -sparkling  water  of  natural 
play  is  not  enough,  but  needs  some  devil's- 
powder  of  wager  and  newspaper  report. 

The  votaries  of  athleticism  run  into 
another  mistake  by  giving  their  interest  to 
one  thing  ;  they  can  strike  so  heavy  a  blow, 
lift  such  a  weight,  walk  so  far ;  they  are 
strongest  in  wrist,  or  leg,  or  loins. 

But  special  superiority  does  not  consti- 
tute health.  Nothing  seems  finer  physically 
than  the  trained  pugilist,  but  it  is  well 
understood  that  he  dies  early,  and  commonly 
of  consumption.  Health  is  something  dif- 
ferent from  strength  ;  it  is  universal  good 
condition;  it  is  general  vigor;  it  is  that 
state  of  body  in  which  every  function  works 
well. 

Going  a  little  further  in  the  way  of  crit- 
icism, too  much  value  is  attached  to  mus- 
cular strength,  and  too  little  to  nervous  en- 
ergy. In  some  respects  identical,  they  still 
represent  distinct  bodily  forces.  One  is  the 
power  that  does,  the  other  endures;  one 
strikes  a  single  titanic  blow,  the  other  never 
tires ;  one  wins  a  wager,  the  other  wins  the 
prizes  of  life.  Physical  strength  does  not 


HEALTH.  137 

imply  nervous  energy,  and  though  nervous 
energy  implies  a  good  body,  it  does  not  re- 
quire great  physical  strength.  Mr.  Evarts 
is  slender  to  frailness,  but  he  has  a  nervous 
system  that  enables  him  to  endure  a  harder 
and  longer  mental  strain  than  any  other 
lawyer  at  the  bar  of  New  York. 

The  gymnasiums  at  Yale  and  Amherst 
and  Williams  are  quite  necessary,  and  are 
justified  by  their  results,  but  West  Rock  and 
Holyoke  and  Greylock  are  better.  Climbing 
a  ladder  develops  physical  strength,  climb- 
ing a  mountain  feeds  nervous  energy.  Take 
two  students  ;  one  can  out-jump,  out-climb, 
out-lift  his  class ;  the  other,  having  slight 
ambitions  of  this  sort,  gets  upon  the  hills  at 
every  chance,  "  cutting  "  a  recitation  now  and 
then  in  the  ardor  of  his  long  rambles ;  at  the 
end  of  twenty  years  it  will  be  found  that  the 
latter  is  the  healthier  man. 

In  looking  at  men  of  marked  attainment, 
we  almost  invariably  find  certain  physical 
traits,  but  a  closer  look  reveals  also  this 
subtler  quality  of  nerve  force  or  vitality.  It 
is  this  that  makes  the  man  what  he  is  as  a 
working  power.  Vitality  is  the  measure  of 
success.  What  vitality  is  we  do  not  know. 
We  only  know  that  its  medium  is  the  ner- 


138  HEALTH. 

vous  system,  and  that  it  is  fed  and  measured 
by  the  assimilation  of  food  and  air.  It  has 
a  mysterious  side,  turned  away  from  all  pos- 
sibility of  analysis,  like  the  other  side  of  the 
moon.  We  only  know  that  while  it  is  not 
nerve,  nor  oxygen,  nor  food,  it  is  a  force  that 
works  through  them.  It  may  be  a  spiritual 
thing,  yet  something  that  is  graduated  by 
its  material  relations.  But,  whatever  it  is, 
its  degree  or  amount  is  determined  by  the 
physical  and  nervous  condition,  as  the  power 
of  a  telescope  is  determined  by  the  size 
of  its  aperture.  Nourish  and  strengthen 
your  muscles  and  nerves  and  you  increase 
your  vitality,  but  it  is  the  vitality  that  does 
the  work,  not  the  muscles  or  nerves.  The 
greatest  amount  of  vitality,  —  this  is  your 
requirement,  young  men  !  It  is  a  trifling 
matter  whether  or  not  you  can  row,  or  bat, 
or  jump  to  the  admiration  of  a  crowd  and  of 
yourself ;  but  it  is  a  matter  of  the  greatest 
moment  that  you  so  use  your  body  and 
regulate  your  life  that  you  shall  have  your 
largest  possible  allowance  of  this  mysterious 
thing  called  nerve-force,  or  vitality. 

I  am  eager,  however,  to  get  the  subject 
into  a  finer  region  of  appeal.  The  posses- 
sion of  health  should  be  a  matter  of  hearty, 


HEALTH.  139 

honest  pride.  I  would  have  one  hold  him- 
self ashamed  who  has  not  a  man's  share  of 
manly  vitality.  If  Providence  denies  it,  it 
must  be  patiently  endured.  If  one  has  in- 
herited feebleness,  let  him  blush  for  his 
ancestors.  If  one  lacks  it  through  personal 
fault,  he  must  confess  himself  not  only  a 
guilty  sinner,  but  guilty  of  a  shameful  sin. 
Bodily  weakness  minimizes  a  man  ;  it  is  a 
subtraction,  a  derogation,  a  maiming.  It 
puts  one  below  the  average,  makes  one  frac- 
tional, not  a  full  counter  in  the  game  of  life, 
small  change  to  be  disregarded  in  social  esti- 
mates. 

Despite  the  revival  of  athleticism  and  the 
spread  of  hygienic  knowledge,  the  feeble 
young  man  is  still  to  be  seen,  and  not  rarely ; 
—  languid,  listless,  hesitating,  forceless,  thin- 
limbed,  narrow-chested,  uncertain,  tremu- 
lous, the  very  thought  of  his  conducting  a 
business  a  jest,  though  often  he  can  drink 
and  smoke  and  sit  up  of  nights  most  admi- 
rably. I  would  like  to  reproduce  on  these 
pages  Lockhart's  picture  of  Christopher 
North,  simply  to  show  what  a  superb  thing 
a  full  vitality  is ;  the  grandest  physique 
of  any  man  of  his  century,  robust,  athletic, 
broad  across  the  back,  firm  set  upon  his 


140  HEALTH. 

limbs;  in  complexion  a  genuine  Goth,  with 
hair  of  true  Sieambrian  yellow  falling  about 
his  shoulders  in  waving  locks,  his  eyes  of  the 
lightest  yet  clearest  blue,  and  blood  flowing 
in  his  cheek  with  as  firm  a  fervor  as  it  did 
in  his  ancestral  Teutons,  who  rushed  to  bat- 
tle with  laughter.  De  Quincey  says  that 
when  Wilson  was  spending  a  vacation  in 
the  Highlands  he  would  often  run  for  hours 
over  the  hills,  bareheaded,  his  long  yellow 
hair  streaming  behind  him,  stretching  out 
his  hands  and  shouting  aloud  in  simple 
exultation  of  life.  There  is  a  man  for  you 
—  healthy,  strong,  vital ! 

possess  health  in  this  fashion,  to  stand 
under  the  orderly  heavens  and  amidst  the 
harmonies  of  nature,  light,  air,  earth,  wa- 
ter, and  growing  things  all  working  in 
perfect  unison,  and  feel  that  the  harmony 
reaches  to  you ;  to  feel  that  nature's  laws 
are  fulfilled  in  you  as  well  as  in  tree,  and 
planet,  and  ocean,  —  this  is  to  share  in  the 
joy  that  underlies  nature  and  is  heard  in 
her  unvoiced  hymn.  Nor  is  it  a  lesser  joy 
to  stand  before  life  with  a  consciousness 
\  of  strength  equal  to  its  emergencies.  •  The 
most  exquisite  feeling  possible  to  man  is  the 
sense  of  ability  to  overcome  obstacles;  to 


HEALTH. 

face  a  wall  and  know  that  you 
your  way  through  it ;  to  undertake  an  enter- 
prise "  of  pith  and  moment "  and  know  that 
you  can  carry  it  through  to  success ;  to 
come  under  an  inevitable  burden  and  know 
that  you  can  stand  erect.  Facing  life  in 
this  way  is  often  regarded  as  a  matter  of 
mere  spirit ;  but  woe  be  to  the  man  of  spirit 
who  undertakes  great  things  without  a  well- 
dowered  body ;  a  dash,  a  flutter  of  un- 
strung nerves,  ending  in  collapse,  is  all  there 
is  to  relate. 

Carlyle,  in  that  wondrous  wise  talk  of 
his  to  the  students  at  Edinburgh,  said : 
46  Finally,  I  have  one  advice  to  give  you, 
which  is  practically  of  very  great  impor- 
tance. You  are  to  consider  throughout, 
much  more  than  is  done  at  present,  and 
what  would  have  been  a  very  great  thing 
for  me  if  I  had  been  able  to  consider,  that 
health  is  a  thing  to  be  attended  to  contin- 
ually ;  that  you  are  to  regard  that  as  the 
very  highest  of  all  temporal  things  for  you. 
There  is  no  kind  of  achievement  you  could 
make  in  the  world  that  is  equal  to  perfect 
health.  What  to  it  are  nuggets  or  mil- 
lions?" Carlyle  here  voices  the  common 
feeling  of  overwhelming,  irreparable  mis- 


142  HEALTH. 

take  that  vast  numbers  are  called  to  un- 
dergo. Other  mistakes  may  be  overcome. 
Mind  and  moral  nature  are  subject  to  the 
will,  but  a  weakened  body,  who  can  correct 
that  ?  There  are  for  it  no  repentances  and 
forgivings,  but  only  the  stern  order  of  the 
material  world,  reaping  after  the  sowing. 
No  pangs  of  physical  suffering  would  have 
wrung  such  words  from  Carlyle,  but  the 
fact  that  he  had  been  crippled  in  his  work, 
that  the  clearness  of  his  vision  had  been 
dimmed,  and  that  a  hue  not  natural  to  him- 
self —  a  hue  partial,  distempered,  morose  — 
was  spread  over  all  that  he  had  done.  It  is 
late  before  we  learn  that  the  whole  of  man 
goes  into  his  work.  Poet,  or  orator,  or  phi- 
losopher, or  man  of  business,  his  body  fol- 
lows him,  and  holds  the  pen,  and  shapes  the 
thought,  and  imparts  its  quality  to  all  that 
he  does  or  says.  An  impaired  vitality  of 
body  implies  an  element  of  weakness  in  the 
undertaking  to  the  end,  and  no  heroism  of 
spirit,  or  strength  of  will,  or  industry  can 
eliminate  it. 

If  this  discussion  has  had  sufficient  force 
to  excite  an  interest,  it  may  lead  to  the 
definite  question,  How  shall  we  nourish  this 
vitality  and  health  which  Carlyle  calls  "  the 


HEALTH.  143 

highest  of  all  temporal  things  "  ?  I  hesi- 
tate to  enter  this  field,  since  no  writer  or 
speaker  likes  to  antagonize  his  audience. 
Besides,  the  way  is  somewhat  worn,  and  you 
have  been  driven  or  dragged  over  it  so  often, 
and  sometimes  in  so  repulsive  ways,  that  I 
hesitate  to  class  myself  with  your  Mentors 
on  this  subject.  Still,  trusting  to  a  good 
understanding  hitherto,  I  push  on. 

I  think  the  best  observers  agree  that  bod- 
ily vigor  is  a  matter  of  preservation  and 
steady  care,  rather  than  of  special  training. 
That  is,  God  has  given  most  of  us  health  ; 
the  main  thing  is  not  to  waste  it.  It  is  not 
something  to  be  achieved,  but  something  to 
be  retained.  If  the  practical  wisdom  of  the 
matter  were  put  into  one  phrase,  I  think  it 
would  be  something  like  this  :  Avoid  what- 
ever tends  to  lessen  vitality. 

What  are  the  things  which  do  this? 

1.  It  would  be  an  unscientific  treatment 
of  the  subject,  if  I  did  not  lay  heavy  em- 
phasis upon  tobacco  as  it  is  commonly  used. 

As  in  the  chapter  on  Thrift  so  here  I 
speak  of  the  use  of  tobacco  in  the  single 
light  of  the  subject  in  hand.  There  seem 
to  me  three  main  objections  to  its  use.  It 
is  an  unthrifty  habit ;  it  is  tyrannical,  and  so 


144  HEALTH. 

spreads  out  into  the  field  of  morals,  where 
we  will  not  follow  it ;  and  it  is  injurious  to 
health.  If  these  three  points  seem  to  you  to 
cover  nearly  the  whole  sphere,  I  shall  not 
deny  it.  Thrift,  morals,  health,  —  they  are 
indeed  somewhat  broad ! 

Persons  of  certain  temperament,  and  of 
rough  out-of-door  employment,  may  be  ex- 
ceptions to  the  extent  that  the  injury  is  not 
perceptible.  But  taking  life  as  we  have  it, 
with  a  lessening  of  the  phlegmatic  tempera- 
ment and  a  steady  increase  of  the  nervous 
temperament  induced  by  city  .life  and  indoor 
occupation,  —  the  tobacco  habit  must  be  set 
down  as  injurious.  It  might  not  be  so  to 
any  great  degree  if  its  use  did  not  call  into 
play  that  subtle  law  of  increase  which  ren- 
ders moderation  a  difficult  thing  to  secure. 
Logically,  there  can  hardly  be  any  moder- 
ation in  a  habit  so  related  to  the  will,  for 
the  habit  itself  is  one  of  indulgence,  a  field 
from  which  the  will  is  shut  out ;  hence  the 
only  limit,  ordinarily,  is  that  imposed  by 
satiety ;  the  smoker  stops  when  he  does  not 
care  to  smoke  longer. 

But  there  are  physiological  reasons  why 
tobacco  creates  an  increasing  appetite.  It 
is  a  nerve-stimulant ;  stimulated  nerves  mean 


HEALTH.  145 

at  last  irritated  nerves,  and  irritated  nerves 
clamor  forever.  And  being  unnaturally  ir- 
ritated and  stung  into  undue  action  they 
lose  their  force,  which  is  a  loss  of  vitality. 
Any  physician  will  tell  you  that  tobacco  is 
a  debilitant ;  that  it  weakens  the  nerve  cen- 
tres ;  that  it  lessens  vitality  ;  that  it  subtracts 
from  energy ;  that  it  renders  one  thus  weak- 
ened more  liable  to  disease ;  that  it  engen- 
ders certain  ailments,  and  tends  to  induce  a 
certain  condition  the  most  remote  from  that 
which  any  man  could  wish.  It  is  pleasant 
to  be  able  to  state  here  that  the  use  of  to- 
bacco is  steadily  decreasing  at  Yale  and 
Harvard,  —  a  result  due  to  athleticism  and 
the  influence  of  the  able  men,  Dr.  Seaver 
and  Dr.  Sargent,  who  have  charge  of  the 
physical  condition  of  the  students. 

2.  The  drinking  habit  is  to  be  set  down 
as  a  great  waster  of  vitality.  The  moderate 
use  of  alcohol  is  a  cheat.  It  is  opposed  in 
its  very  nature  to  moderation  ;  morally  and 
physiologically  it  is  keyed  to  the  opposite. 
The  exceptions  are  the  decoys  without  which 
the  evil  would  bag  no  game.  But  the  phy- 
siologists are  practically  agreed  that  even  a 
moderate  use  of  alcohol  is  injurious  to  vital- 
ity. Dr.  Richardson,  of  London,  says  :  "  It 


146  HEALTH. 

is  the  duty  of  my  profession  to  show,  as  it 
can  show  to  the  most  perfect  demonstration, 
that  alcohol  is  no  necessity  of  man ;  that  it 
is  out  of  place  when  used  for  any  other  than 
a  medical,  chemical,  or  artistic  purpose  ;  that 
it  is  no  food ;  that  it  is  the  most  insidious 
destroyer  of  health,  happiness,  and  life."  He 
says  again :  "  Among  the  chief  sources  of 
the  reduction  of  vitality  to  the  low  figure  at 
which  it  stands,  alcohol  stands  first ;  it  kills 
in  the  present,  it  impairs  the  vital  powers  in 
the  succeeding  generations."  "  If  England 
were  redeemed  from  its  use,"  he  says,  "  the 
vitality  of  the  nation  would  rise  one  third  in 
its  value."  But  the  drinking  habit  in  this 
dry,  nerve-exciting  climate  of  ours  is  far 
more  injurious  than  it  is  in  England.  If  it 
there  reduces  vitality  a  third  in  value,  what 
must  it  do  here  ?  The  simple  fact  for  a  ra- 
tional being  to  consider  and  govern  himself 
by  is  that  every  time  he  drinks  a  glass  of 
liquor,  whatever  its  per  cent,  of  alcohol,  he 
lessens  Ms  vitality  ;  he  has  just  so  much  less 
power  to  work  with,  less  ability  to  endure, 
less  nervous  force  for  fine  efforts,  less  tough- 
ness to  put  against  difficulties,  less  time  to 
live.  What !  if  it  be  only  beer  ?  Yes  !  the 
verdict  of  science  is  absolute  and  final. 


HEALTH.  147 

Does  any  one  sing  the  praises  of  wine  ? 
Every  generous  heart  has  a  chord  that  vi- 
brates to  that  note ;  but,  after  all,  the  wine 
of  life  is  better  and  more  musical.  Does 
any  one  speak  of  usage  ?  I  protest  by  all 
the  glories  of  humanity  against  a  fashion 
that  overrides  the  welfare  of  humanity. 

3.  I  come  to  points  less  emphatic,  also  less 
familiar  as  yet,  but  soon  to  engage  practical 
attention.  It  is  a  little  more  than  a  hun- 
dred years  since  Priestley  discovered  oxygen, 
and  so  ran  upon  the  fact  that  air  robbed  of 
it  by  breathing  contains  dangerous  proper- 
ties, a  truth  that  has  not  yet  reached  gen- 
eral recognition.  Sextons  and  mill-build- 
ers, and  the  entire  indoor  world,  practically 
hold  that  one  can  live  equally  well  anywhere 
outside  of  a  vacuum.  Oxygen  is  life,  the 
gas  it  liberates  is  death.  When  you  breathe 
air  deficient  in  one  and  over-laden  with  the 
other  you  reduce  vitality,  and  pave  the  way 
for  disease.  The  melancholy  feature  of  mill 
life  —  now  coming  almost  into  supremacy 
in  numbers  —  is  not  low  wages,  but  scant 
oxygen.  An  English  physician  says  that 
"  health  is  a  thing  absolutely  unknown 
among  English  factory  operatives." 

In  this  respect  many  are  shut  off  from 


148  HEALTH. 

any  choice.  I  can  only  say,  value  every 
breath  of  pure  air  you  can  get,  work  in  it 
if  possible,  sleep  in  it  without  fail,  hesitate 
to  stay  where  it  is  not,  and  whenever  it  is 
possible  drink  it  in  as  it  blowrs  over  sum- 
mits of  hills,  and  through  cool  woods. 

4.  Lack  of  sleep  is  a  great  waster  of 
vitality. 

Carlyle  quotes  the  French  financier  with 
a  sigh :  "  Why  is  there  no  sleep  to  be  sold  ? 
Sleep  was  not  in  the  market  at  any  price." 
Its  lack  is  the  tragical  feature  of  broken 
health.  "  Chief  nourisher  in  life's  feast," 
the  omniscient  poet  calls  it.  Never  except 
for  the  most  imperative  reason  should  one 
break  in  upon  that  sacred  process  for  which 
the  sun  withdraws  itself  and  silence  broods 
over  the  hemisphere.  Its  hours  cannot  be 
safely  changed.  Two  young  men,  equally 
strong,  work  side  by  side  ;  one  sleeps  early 
and  long,  the  other  retires  late  and  irregu- 
larly. Apparently  they  get  on  equally  well, 
but  the  physician  will  tell  you  that  one  is 
drawing  on  his  stock  of  vitality,  while  the 
other  keeps  it  full ;  in  time  one  is  bankrupt 
in  health,  the  other  rich. 

Sleep  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  divine  thing ; 
it  is  akin  to  creation.  One  should  never 


HEALTH.  149 

pass  into  it  without  adoration  ;  it  is  a  return 
into  the  hands  of  God  to  be  new-made,  the 
tire  and  age  of  the  day  to  be  taken  out,  and 
freshness  and  youth  wrought  in. 

"  Come,  blessed  barrier  between  day  and  day ; 

Dear  mother  of  fresh  thoughts  and  joyous  health !  " 

Or,  with  Allingham  :  — 

*'  Sleep  is  like  death,  and  after  sleep 

The  world  seems  new  begun  ; 
While  thoughts  stand  luminous  and  firm, 

Like  statues  in  the  sun ; 
Refreshed  from  supersensuous  founts, 
The  soul  to  clearer  vision  mounts." 

The  physiologist  cannot  explain  it ;  all  he 
knows  is  that,  in  some  way,  it  renews  vital- 
ity. To  tamper  with  it,  to  defraud  it,  to 
take  it  fitfully,  is  to  throw  away  life  itself. 
It  is  a  mistake  to  devote  the  hours  up  to 
midnight  to  work,  or  pleasure,  or  books.  It 
may  be  an  innocent  thing  to  dance  at  the 
right  time  and  place,  and  in  the  right  way 
and  company,  but  to  dance  all  night  is  to 
rob  yourself  of  your  richest  treasure.  Com- 
pare in  any  matter  requiring  nerve  and  head 
one  who  has  slept  all  night  with  one  who 
has  spent  a  sleepless  night,  and  you  will  get 
an  illuminating  verdict  on  the  value  of 
sleep. 

Business  men  who  are  bearing  the  heavy 


150  HEALTH. 

cares  of  the  day  will  assent  when  I  say  that 
the  whole  life,  hygienically,  should  be  or- 
dered with  regard  to  sleep.  If  one  can  sleep 
he  can  endure  anything,  he  is  every  day  a 
new  man.  Food,  exercise,  pleasures,  hours, 
everything  should  be  subordinated  to  secur- 
ing sleep.  No  revival  of  troubles,  no  vexing 
questions  should  precede  it.  It  should  be  as 
regular  as  the  stars,  and  like  the  night  itself 
in  its  solemn  peacef  ulness. 

5.  I  will  only  name  sound  digestion  as  a 
fundamental  element  in  vitality,  it  being  so 
well  understood.     The  deadly  effects  of  fry- 
ing-pan  and  pastry  are  no  longer   secrets. 
The  hygienists  are  steadily  telling  us  in  the 
newspapers  that  we  eat  too  much  and  too 
fast,  that  the  national  cooking  is  bad,  that 
narcotics  and  stimulants  and  foul  air  and  in- 
dolence and  hurry  and   anxiety  are  foes  of 
digestion.     Professor  Huxley  encounters  no 
denial  when  he  makes  a  good  stomach  a  con- 
dition of  success  in  any  practical  career. 

6.  Nor  will  you  expect  me  to  more  than 
name   those   requirements  of  health  and  of 
self-respect   as   well, —  the   frequent  bath, 
and  that  scrupulous  care  of  the  body  which 
is  next  to  godliness. 

7.  There   are  hindrances  to   a   strong  vi- 


HEALTH.  151 

tality  that  are  inseparable  from  life  as  it 
comes  to  most  of  us.  Our  working  classes 
labor  harder  and  longer  than  any  other  in 
the  world,  our  business  men  have  longer 
hours,  our  professional  men  give  themselves 
less  rest.  There  is  a  danger  from  over-work 
not  to  be  forgotten ;  it  is  already  being  felt 
in  a  rapid  increase  of  nervous  diseases  with 
their  irresistible  tendency  to  the  use  of  nar- 
cotics and  stimulants,  and  a  ready  suscepti- 
bility to  malarial  influences.  Our  climate 
does  not  admit  of  so  hard  labor  as  that  of 
England,  but  the  English  operative  works 
but  five  and  a  half  days  to  our  six,  and  the 
professional  and  business  man  begins  late 
and  stops  early,  making  a  sort  of  Sabbath 
of  his  evening. 

8.  Nothing  more  surely  cuts  away  and 
undermines  the  vital  forces  than  worry  and 
anxiety,  however  caused.  Happily,  trouble 
is  not  native  nor  lasting  to  youth  —  touching 
it  but  lightly  :  — 

"  As  night  to  him  that  sitting  on  a  hill 

Sees  the  midsummer,  midnight,  Norway  sun 
Set  into  sunrise." 

But  as  we  descend  from  its  glorious  heights 
we  encounter  the  inevitable  cares  and  anxi- 
eties that  are  involved  in  the  increased  re- 


152  HEALTH. 

lations  of  life.  It  is  a  large  part  of  what 
Sir  Thomas  Browne  calls  "'the  militia  of 
life  "  to  see  to  it  that  these  cares  do  not 
break  up  the  order  either  of  soul  or  body. 
The  practical  lesson  here  is  both  religious 
and  prudential.  It  says,  live  carefully, 
avoid  needless  entanglements,  don't  com- 
promise yourself,  keep  a  good  conscience, 
have  nothing  in  your  life  that  requires  con- 
cealment. Burdens  and  cares  a  man  must 
have,  but  a  true  and  simple  habit  of  life,~ 
held  to  loftily  and  devoutly,  will  keep  them 
from  harming  body  or  soul. 

9.  My  last  suggestion  will,  perhaps,  have 
more  novelty  than  any  other  before  named. 
The  passions  of  anger,  hatred,  grief,  and 
fear  are  usually  considered  as  belonging  to 
morals,  but  Dr.  Richardson  puts  them 
among  the  influences  most  destructive  of 
vitality.  "  The  strongest,"  he  says,  "  can- 
not afford  to  indulge  in  them."  Shake- 
speare, whom  nothing  escapes,  speaks  of 
envy  as  "  lean-faced." 

1 '  Heat  not  a  furnace  for  your  foes  so  hot 
That  it  do  singe  yourself." 

When  these  great  passions  burn,  the  oil 
of  life  is  rapidly  spent.  Hence  divine  wis- 
dom forbids  hatred  and  anger,  and  divine 


HEALTH.  153 

love  heals  our  griefs  and   fears  as  hurtful 
alike  to  body  and  soul. 

I  cannot  better  end  these  suggestions 
than  by  quoting  some  words  of  Bacon, 
whose  wisdom  seems  to  cover  every  subject 
he  touches.  As  if  speaking  to  young  men, 
he  says :  "  It  is  a  safer  conclusion  to  say, 
4  This  agreeth  not  well  with  me,  therefore  I 
will  not  continue  it,'  than  this :  *  I  find  no 
offense  (or  hurt)  of  this,  therefore  I  may 
use  it ; '  —  that  is,  don't  wait  till  you  are 
hurt  by  a  habit  before  giving  it  up,  but  find 
out  its  ordinary  tendency,  and  act  accord- 
ingly." 


TO 

READING. 


"  Read  not  to  contradict  and  confute,  nor  to  believe 
and  take  for  granted,  nor  to  find  talk  and  discourse, 
but  to  weigh  and  consider.  Some  books  are  to  be  tasted, 
others  to  be  swallowed,  and  some  few  to  be  chewed  and 
digested."  —  BACON. 

"  Bring  with  thee  the  books." —  ST.  PAUL. 

"  These  young  obscure  years  ought  to  be  increasingly 
employed  in  gaining  a  knowledge  of  things  worth  know- 
ing ;  especially  of  heroic  human  souls  worth  knowing."  — 
CAKLYLE. 

"  'T  would  be  endless  to  tell  you  the  things  that  he  knew, 
All  separate  facts,  undeniably  true, 
But  with  him  or  each  other  they  'd  nothing  to  do ; 
No  power  of  combining,  arranging,  discerning, 
Digested  the  masses  he  learned  into  learning." 

-  A  FABLE  FOB  CRITICS. 

"  No  man  can  read  with  profit  that  which  he  cannot 
learn  to  read  with  pleasure."  —  PRESIDENT  PORTER. 

"  It  is  wholesome  and  bracing  for  the  mind,  to  have  its 
faculties  kept  on  the  stretch.  It  is  like  the  effect  of  a 
walk  in  Switzerland  upon  the  body.  Reading  an  essay 
of  Bacon's,  for  instance,  or  a  chapter  of  Aristotle  or  of 
Butler,  if  it  be  well  and  thoughtfully  read,  is  much  like 
climbing  up  a  hill,  and  may  do  one  the  same  sort  of 
good."  —  GUESSES  AT  TRUTH. 


vn. 

BEADING.    . 

THE  universal  distribution  of  books  has 
given  rise  to  a  new  and  distinct  ambition, 
which  may  be  described  as  a  desire  for  intel- 
lectuality. To  be  intellectual,  or  to  be  re- 
garded as  such,  is  certainly  among  the  am- 
bitions of  modern  society.  The  logic  of  it 
is  plain ;  men  do  not  like  to  be  out  of  rela- 
tion to  great  facts.  The  prominent  figure, 
the  strong  party,  the  new  discovery,  fixes 
their  attention  and  enlists  their  sympathies. 
Napoleon,  simply  by  his  outstanding  great- 
ness as  a  phenomenon,  commands  a  homage 
from  which  our  judgment  dissents.  The 
dignity  and  sense  of  reality  that  Milton 
throws  about  Satan  has  secured  for  him 
what  may  even  be  called  respect. 

Books  are  the  great  fact  of  modern  civili- 
zation, its  finest  expression  and  summation. 
They  stand  for  intellect ;  their  source,  their 
method,  their  reception  is  in  the  intellect. 


158  READING. 

Thus,  the  whole  atmosphere  about  them 
being  intellectual,  they  have  come  to  stand 
for  the  thing  itself,  and  to  imply  its  posses- 
sion on  the  part  of  all  concerned  with  them. 
It  seems  an  incongruity  when  an  ignorant 
person  sells  us  a  book.  No  one  can  afford 
to  ignore  this  great  latter-day  fact.  You 
will  need  to  drop  somewhat  below  the  aver- 
age of  our  American  culture  before  you  will 
find  one  who  does  not  claim  something  of 
the  spirit  that  surrounds  books ;  very  ill- 
founded  the  claim  may  be,  but  very  devoutly 
entertained.  There  is  almost  no  conception 
of  intellectuality  apart  from  them ;  to  know 
them  is  to  be  intellectual. 

There  may  be  some  crudeness  and  mis- 
apprehension in  this,  but,  on  the  whole,  it  is 
praiseworthy.  It  marks  the  full  transition 
from  animal  to  man.  It  points  the  way  to 
better  things,  for  when  the  masses  actually 
think,  all  else  of  whieh  the  moralist  dreams 
and  for  which  the  saint  prays  will  follow. 
Thought  is  the  crucible  in  which  all  things 
are  resolved  and  separated  to  their  true  is- 
sues. 

What  shall  I  read?  Such  is  the  ques- 
tion everywhere  put  by  this  new  ambition. 
The  question  does  not  seem  to  me  a  difficult 


READING.  159 

one,  like  that  of  amusements,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  too  easy  to  admit  of  much  dis- 
cussion. It  is  as  though  we  stood  in  an 
orchard  laden  with  fruit ;  it  is  not  a  matter 
of  choice,  but  of  falling-to,  and  taking  the 
best.  The  worm-eaten,  the  wind-blasted, 
the  rotten,  will  of  course  be  passed  by. 

I  am  not  sure  that  any  rule  is  of  very 
much  use  save  one,  and  that  shall  be  nega- 
tive ;  namely,  read  no  books  but  the  best. 
This  negative  rule  covers  a  vast  field.  The 
bad  or  indifferent  books  are  more  than  the 
good;  and  reading,  of  course,  bears  the 
same  proportion.  A  book  once  represented 
the  inspiration  and  thought  of  its  author; 
to-day  it  represents  a  price  paid.  The 
change  and  perversion  is  immense.  The 
standard  and  spirit  of  literature  are  not 
drawn  from  genius  and  intelligence,  but 
from  the  tastes  and  conceptions  of  the 
masses,  —  an  inversion  which  deserves  un- 
ending protest.  When  the  author  abdi- 
cates in  favor  of  the  reader  there  is  an  end 
of  literature.  Even  in  children's  books 
there  is  no  need  of  descent.  A  child  re- 
quires only  plainness,  never  a  dropping 
down.  The  great  masterpieces  in  this  lit- 
erature :  "  Robinson  Crusoe ;  "  Hans  Ander- 


160  READING. 

sen's  Stories,  and  those  of  our  own  Ander- 
sen, Horace  Scudder  ;  "  Paul  and  Virginia;  " 
44  Arabian  Nights  ; "  Charles  Kingsley's 
"Greek  Heroes"  and  "Water  Babies;" 
Lamb's  "  Tales  from  Shakespeare ; "  appeal 
equally  to  young  and  old  ;  one  never  sus- 
pects in  them  that  the  author  has  left  his 
highest  plane.  To  make  this  distinction 
between  the  legitimate  and  the  false  is  diffi- 
cult until  one's  taste  and  judgment  are  es- 
tablished. But  there  are  certain  rules  that 
come  near  to  the  matter. 

1.  Resolutely  avoid   the   immoral   litera- 
ture that   floods   the  news-stall.     One  who 
reads   in   this  direction  reads  himself  into 
moral  chaos  and  darkness  ;  it  is  an  unknow- 
ing, uneducating  process.     There    is  some- 
thing  peculiarly  destructive  in  that  know- 
ledge of  evil  which  comes  through  a  book 
or  picture.      The   direct    sight    and    sound 
of  evil  do  not  so  wound  and  blast  as  does 
that  apprehension  of  it  gained  by  reading. 
It  thus  seems  to  get  into  the  mind ;  it  en- 
trenches itself  in  the  imagination,  where  it 
stays  and  multiplies  itself,  breeding  through 
the   fancy,  turning   these  noblest  faculties 
into  ministers  of  perdition. 

2.  There  is  a  class  of  periodicals,  weekly 


READING.  161 

and  monthly,  of  a  higher  grade,  printed  in 
heavy  type  and  with  coarse,  startling  illus- 
trations, and  filled  with  stories,  concerning 
which  it  is  hard  to  determine  whether  the 
paper,  the  type,  the  illustrations,  or  the  mat- 
ter is  the  shabbiest ;  all  wear  the  broadest 
badge  of  vulgarity.  They  are  not  often  im- 
moral, but  they  lack  absolutely  and  utterly 
every  positive  element  of  true  literature.  * 
Their  effect  might  be  described  as  mental 
obliteration.  For  reading  may  be  an  un- 
educating  process,  and  may  lead  to  a  rever- 
sal of  this  intellectuality  of  which  we  spoke. 
When  the  mind  is  steadily  addressed  in  a 
low  and  untrue  way,  when  it  is  constantly 
excited  by  false  emotions  and  set  to  acting 
in  unreasonable  ways,  it  loses  its  power  to 
guide  and  serve ;  flabby,  perhaps,  is  the  best 
word  to  describe  the  condition  into  which  it 
comes. 

I  say,  not  only  do  not  read  this  rubbish, 
but  in  preference  read  nothing.  The  mind 
will  be  stronger  if  left  to  itself  and  to  the 
unlettered  literature  of  sky  and  field  and 
forest,  or  even  street  where,  at  least,  you 
will  see  true  men  and  women,  and  real 
transactions.  Eather  than  spend  your  Sun- 
days with  these  sheets,  go  among  the  hills, 


162  READING. 

and  hear  what  the  winds  and  the  birds  have 
to  say. 

3.  There  is  a  class  of  books  known  as 
the  novels  of  the  day  ;  novels  of  adventure, 
of  society,  and  of  high-wrought  passion. 
As  a  rule,  they  are  to  be  avoided  on  the 
same  ground  that  you  decline  to  buy  a  fair- 
looking  garment  when  you  have  reason  to 
believe  that  its  wool  is  shoddy  and  its  silk 
is  cotton.  It  is  true  that  a  great  novel  may 
contain  exciting  adventure;  in  itself  there 
is  no  harm  in  thrilling  events,  for  all  fact 
runs  off  into  surprise.  A  great  novel  may 
depict  society,  and  it  is  always  animated  by 
a  great  passion,  but  it  will  be  true  in  each 
of  these  respects.  Such  books  are  rare ; 
you  may  count  their  authors  on  your  two 
hands.  Nothing  can  make  a  book  worth 
reading  in  which  the  delineation  of  motives 
and  conduct  is  false  to  reality  and  nature. 
If  the  adventure  is  excessive,  if  the  delinea- 
tion of  society  consists  of  human  frailty  and 
is  set  in  any  other  light  than  that  of  con- 
demnation, if  the  exceptional  is  set  forth  as 
common,  if  the  sentiment  is  morbid,  if  the 
frailties  of  genius  are  made  to  override  the 
homely,  e very-day  virtues,  if  exceptions  are 
made  in  favor  of  immorality,  if  the  whims 


READING.  163 

of  the  author  are  set  down  as  laws  of 
conduct,  —  let  all  such  books  go  unread. 
Among  many  good  reasons,  the  main  one  is 
that  these  characteristics  have  a  common 
root  of  untruth,  while  the  first  and  absolute 
requisite  of  a  book  is  that  it  shall  be  true. 
Nothing  but  truth  can  feed  the  mind,  as 
nothing  else  can  please  it,  if  it  is  a  healthy 
mind.  It  is  truth  which  makes  the  essential 
greatness  of  a  book,  —  holding  the  mirror 
up  to  nature,  getting  the  reality  of  things 
before  the  reader.  Great  masses  of  books, 
nearly  all  the  novels  of  the  day,  yield  be- 
fore this  fundamental  criticism.  They  have 
one  or  both  of  two  characteristics ;  the  plot 
turns  upon  a  restlessness  under,  or  violation 
of  marriage ;  or  the  tone  is  pessimistic,  that 
is,  treating  evil  as  the  law  of  society.  Occa- 
sionally a  sweet,  healthy  novel  slips  from 
the  press,  like  "  Lorna  Doone,"  but  the  great 
mass  are  such  as  I  have  described.  These 
books  do  not  hold  the  mirror  up  to  nature, 
nor  to  society,  nor  to  the  real  currents  of 
human  thought;  they  mirror  the  distorted 
notions  of  very  conceited  persons  of  very 
shabby  principles,  who  find  it  easier  to  write 
down  their  own  vaporings  than  to  study  na- 
ture and  society. 


164  READING. 

It  is  not  pleasant  to  know  that  a  vast 
number  of  persons  read  little  else  but  such 
books  as  these.  The  frequent  domestic  tra- 
gedy, the  discontent,  the  sentimentality,  and 
common  hysterical  habit  of  thought  and 
manners,  are  largely  due  to  this  overwrought 
and  shallow  literature.  It  not  only  weakens 
the  fibre  of  the  mind,  but  it  induces  a  low 
standard  of  taste  in  everything  else  —  amuse- 
ments, society,  religion. 

But,  you  ask,  how  shall  we  know  the  good 
books  from  the  bad?  Just  as  you  distin- 
guish between  persons,  by  reputation  and 
acquaintance.  You  are  cautious  in  regard 
to  your  company  ;  you  make  no  acquaintance 
except  on  the  strength  of  a  proper  introduc- 
tion or  general  reputation.  Use  the  same 
rule  with  books.  There  is  no  necessity  for 
reading  the  last  new  novel.  If  you  have 
any  secret  vanity  in  literary  things,  to  which 
I  do  not  object,  let  me  say  (in  a  whisper) 
that  the  proper  thing  is  not  to  read  the  last 
new  book;  if  you  are  tempted  to  do  so, 
avoid  mention  of  it  unless  you  would  be 
thought  a  parvenu  in  these  high  realms.  If 
your  friend  who  "reads  all  the  new  books " 
is  patronizingly  surprised  that  you  have  not 
seen  Zola's  or  Ouida's  last,  inquire  how  long 


READING.  165 

since  he  has  read  "  Henry  Esmond,"  and  the 
blush  will  be  on  the  other  cheek.  An  author 
^oon  gets  a  reputation ;  go  by  it  and  make 
few  ventures  among  the  unknown.  One 
should  find  his  way  in  the  literary  world 
as  he  learns  geography,  —  by  maps  and  not 
by  first-hand  explorations.  Emerson  tells  us 
to  wait  a  year  before  reading  a  new  book ; 
and  Lowell  in  the  "  Fable  for  Critics  :  " 

"  Reading  new  books  is  like  eating  new  bread, 
One  can  bear  it  at  first,  but  by  gradual  steps  he 
Is  brought  to  death's  door  of  a  mental  dyspepsy." 

What  of  newspapers  and  magazines  ? 
Read  the  former  as  a  matter  of  business  and 
necessity,  but  expect  little  advantage  from 
them  save  as  they  report  to  you  current 
events.  I  must  know  what  is  going  on  in 
the  world  ;  I  buy  the  newspaper  to  tell  me, 
and  for  no  other  reason.  If  the  keen-eyed 
editor  puts  a  few  of  the  events  together,  and 
asserts  that  they  point  in  this  or  that  direc- 
tion, I  thank  him,  but  keep  a  lookout  for 
myself.  I  ask  of  him  chiefly  facts,  events, 
the  daily  history  of  the  globe.  The  exces- 
sive reading  of  newspapers  tends  to  men- 
tal dissipation  instead  of  mental  discipline. 
What  can  be  worse  for  the  mind  than  to 
think  of  forty  things  in  ten  minutes  ?  It  is 


166  READING. 

commonly  understood  that  the  great  editors 
pursue  a  definite  course  of  continuous  study 
for  the  sake  of  mental  integrity,  and  as  a 
defense  against  the  dissipation  of  their  daily 
work. 

Magazines,  the  monthlies  and  quarterlies, 
fall  into  a  different  category.  They  often 
contain  solid  and  thorough  pieces  of  thought 
and  information,  and  are  the  channels  of 
much  of  the  best  current  literature.  But 
beware  of  the  magazine  story,  except  it  be 
from  a  master. 

And  what  of  the  novel  ?  Almost  the  only 
limits  left  about  novel  -  reading  are  those 
of  likes  and  dislikes;  rules  and  standards 
everywhere  else,  but  none  here.  Highly 
moral  people  read  immoral  books  ;  refined 
people  read  vulgar  ones ;  fastidious  people 
welcome  to  their  minds  characters  whom 
they  would  turn  out  of  their  parlors.  Chil- 
dren go  to  school  for  study  and  come  home 
to  the  serial  story,  a  veritable  Penelope's- 
web  process.  The  whole  matter  is  at  loose 
ends,  and  needs  to  be  brought  under  some 
law  of  reason  and  consistency. 

As  a  first  step  in  this  direction,  I  would 
suggest  that  you  read  but  few  novels,  and 
with  careful  selection,  and  at  decided  inter- 
vals of  time. 


READING.  167 

Have  two  objects  in  view,  varying  them 
according  to  the  end,  namely,  recreation  and 
knowledge  of  life. 

Every  hard  worker  is  no,w  and  then  en- 
titled to  a  holiday.  Treat  yourself  to  a 
novel  as  you  take  a  pleasure  trip,  and,  be- 
cause you  do  it  rarely,  let  it  be  a  good  one. 
We  have  a  friend  who  prays  that  his  life 
may  be  spared  till  he  has  read  all  of  the 
Waverleys  ;  for  he  will  not  dull  his  interest 
in  one  by  too  soon  taking  up  another.  Hav- 
ing selected  your  novel  as  carefully  as  you 
would  choose  a  friend,  give  yourself  up  to 
it ;  lend  to  its  fancy  the  wings  of  your  own 
imagination  ;  revel  in  it  without  restraint ; 
drink  its  wine  ;  keep  step  with  its  passion ; 
float  on  its  tide,  whether  it  glides  serenely 
to  happy  ends,  or  sweeps  dark  and  tumul- 
tuous to  tragic  destinies. 

Such  reading  is  not  only  a  fine  recreation, 
but  of  highest  value,  especially  to  business 
men.  It  cultivates  what  the  American  lacks 
by  nature,  and  doubly  lacks  through  social 
atmosphere,  namely,  sentiment ;  by  which  I 
mean  responsiveness  to  the  higher  and  finer 
truths. 

But  the  main  use  of  the  novel  is  to  un- 
fold character  and  society ;  this  is  its  voca- 


168  READING. 

tion,  —  to  depict  life.  It  may  be  historical, 
domestic,  social,  psychological,  political,  or 
religious,  but  its  theme  is  life.  Its  value 
consists  in  the  fidelity  of  the  picture  and 
the  literary  charm  with  which  it  is  invested. 
When  I  read  a  novel  of  Thackeray,  my 
knowledge  of  man  is  increased.  I  get 
broader  views  of  humanity.  I  see  what  a 
wide,  deep,  complex  thing  life  is.  Hence  I 
will  read  no  novels  but  the  best,  since  they 
alone  can  show  me  life  as  it  is ;  and  above 
all  things  I  must  not  think  of  life  falsely. 
We  might  live  virtuously  while  holding  that 
the  world  is  flat,  but  not  if  we  were  deceived 
as  to  the  shape  and  proportions  of  man. 
Ptolemaic  astronomy  were  better  than  un- 
natural fiction. 

If  you  ask  who  these  best  novelists  are, 
I  will  venture  to  name  those  who,  at  least, 
head  the  column.  Pardon  the  dry  list: 
Scott,  Thackeray,  Hawthorne,  George  Eliot, 
Cooper,  Dickens,  Charles  Kingsley,  Mrs. 
Stowe,  MacDonald,  Howells,  Blackmore, 
Besant,  George  Meredith,  George  W.  Cable, 
Black,  Trollope.  Of  foreign  authors  I  will 
name  only  Victor  Hugo,  as  easily  greatest 
and  best. 

There   are   many  good   novels   by  other 


READING.  169 

authors,  correct  in  presentation,  sound  in 
sentiment,  instructive,  entertaining.  I  do 
not  say,  Don't  read  them  ;  but  consider  the 
matter  well.  I  once  asked  one  of  our  widest 
and  most  thorough  readers  of  English  lit- 
erature, Mr.  James  T.  Fields,  if  he  had 
read  a  certain  popular  novel.  He  replied, 
"  I  only  read  the  saints."  I  wondered  why 
I  had  read  it,  when  I,  too,  might  have  read 
the  saints. 

But  the  novel  is  the  holiday  of  literature ; 
let  us  come  down  to  its  e very-day  features. 
Here  the  first  question  will  be,  What  shall 
determine  my  reading  ? 

1.  While  you  should  read  nothing  which 
does  not  interest  you,  something  besides  in- 
terest must  decide  what  the  book  shall  be. 
If  the  interest  always  coincided  with  what 
is  best,  it  were  well  indeed ;  but  pleasure 
rarely  coincides  wholly  with  judgment. 
Therefore,  I  say,  read  what  is  best  for  you, 
what  will  teach  you  something  ;  read  to 
know,  to  think  ;  but  you  must  also  be  inter- 
ested. It  is  not  necessary  to  descend  in  the 
character  of  one's  reading  to  find  zest;  it 
may  be  found  by  turning  aside.  Descents, 
everywhere  and  fn  all  things,  are  to  be 
avoided.  You  may  take  no  interest  in 


170  READING, 

Hume's  "  History  of  England  ;  "  try  Green's, 
or  Knight's  with  its  rich  illustrations,  or 
even  Dickens's  "  Child's  History,"  —  a  book 
for  all.  Another  method  would  be  to  read 
those  novels  of  Scott  which  touch  upon  the 
various  reigns,  and  the  historical  plays  of 
Shakespeare,  —  the  best  of  all  English  his- 
tories, truest  to  the  time  and  freest  from 
bias.  Starting  with  one  of  these,  or  "  The 
Abbot,"  or  Kingsley's  "  Hereward,"  pass  to 
the  more  accurate,  but  no  truer  form  in  the 
pages  of  Macaulay  and  Freeman  and  Green. 
Ancient  history  is  proverbially  dull ;  but 
we  can  get  it  in  charming  and  trustworthy 
form  from  Ebers.  Still,  we  must  not  forget 
Plutarch,  that  "  prattler  of  history  "  as  Eui- 
erson  calls  him,  —  the  serenest  and  most  sta- 
ble figure  in  the  whole  world  of  books. 

So  of  biography,  —  a  department  of  liter- 
ature so  large  that  you  cannot  be  expected 
to  compass  it ;  but  you  should  not  fail  to  let 
yourself  feel  the  peculiar  inspiration  to  be 
found  only  in  such  books  as  the  "  Life  of 
Charles  Kingsley,"  Smiles's  "  Life  of  Ste- 
phenson,"  Hughes's  "Alfred  the  Great," 
Irving's  "  Columbus  "  and  "  Washington," 
and  Trevelyan's  "  Life  of  Macaulay."  Get 
a  definite  knowledge  of  our  own  greatest 


READING.  171 

men :  Lincoln,  Webster,  John  Quincy  Ad- 
ams, and  others  whom  I  need  not  men- 
tion. And  I  wish  you  all  had  upon  your 
shelves  the  "  English  Men  of  Letters" 
series. 

Your  religious  friend  puts  into  your  hand 
a  volume  of  sermons,  —  very  good,  doubtless, 
but  to  you  "  dry  as  summer  dust."  Ask 
him  for  those  of  Phillips  Brooks  or  Rob- 
ertson, and  in  time  you  may  come  to  like 
those  of  JBushnell  and  even  Mozley.  Per- 
haps you  are  skeptical,  and  he  gives  you  a 
volume  of  "  Evidences  ; "  it  is  too  exacting 
in  its  thought,  and  fails  to  hit  your  mood 
or  temper  of  mind.  Try,  instead,  Brooks's 
"  Influence  of  Jesus,"  or  the  "Life  of  Rob- 
ertson, "  or  the  sermons  of  Washington 
Gladden,  or  the  short  addresses  of  Professor 
Drummond;  books  instinct  with  fresh  and 
noble  feeling. 

Still,  an  earnest  reader  must  have  a  deeper 
motive  than  interest.  One  must  not  pet 
one's  self  in  this  matter.  It  is  a  serious 
part  of  life's  business,  and  must  be  con- 
ducted upon  sound  principles  and  with  reso- 
lute firmness. 

2.  Read  for  general  culture.  As  one 
studies  grammar  for  correctness  of  speech, 


172  READING. 

or  travels  to  learn  the  ways  of  the  world,  or 
mingles  in  society  for  refinement  in  man- 
ners, so  one  ought  to  read  for  a  certain 
dress  and  decoration  of  the  mind.  It  is  not 
creditable  —  it  is  like  excessive  rusticity 
in  manners  and  attire  —  to  lack  a  certain 
knowledge  of  English  literature.  It  is  em- 
barrassing to  others  when  you  are  not  able 
to  respond  with  some  degree  of  intelligence 
to  what  they  assume  to  be  well  known  by 
all.  I  hardly  know  how  you  manage  it  when 
the  young  lady  fresh  from  Smith  or  Welles- 
ley  asks  you  which  of  Shakespeare's  plays 
you  most  admire.  I  can  assure  you  that  no 
disquisition  upon  the  reigning  actress  will 
blind  her  to  the  fact  that  you  are  unfamiliar 
with  "Hamlet."  To  this  end  of  simple  fitness 
for  society,  one  should  read  parts,  at  least, 
of  certain  authors.  It  will  not  be  amiss  to 
indicate  the  lowest  requirements,  especially 
as  they  are  available  by  all :  a  part  of  Shake- 
speare's plays,  —  "Hamlet,"  "Macbeth," 
"  The  Tempest,"  "  The  Merchant  of  Ven- 
ice," and  "  Julius  Caesar ;  "  Milton's  shorter 
poems  and  the  first  two  books  of  "  Paradise 
Lost ; "  "  Pilgrim's  Progress  ;  "  Boswell's 
"  Life  of  Johnson  ;"  the  poems  of  Goldsmith 
and  Burns  ;  Wordsworth's  ballads,  sonnets, 


READING.  173 

and  "  Ode  on  Immortality ; "  parts  of  By- 
ron's "  Childe  Harold  ;  "  a  few  of  the  shorter 
poems  of  Coleridge,  Shelley,  Keats,  and  Cow- 
per ;  some  of  the  essays  of  Lamb,  Macaulay, 
De  Quincey,  Matthew  Arnold,  and  Lowell ; 
Tennyson,  Browning,  and  Ruskin,  in  part; 
Green's  "  History  of  England ;  "  Carlyle's 
Earlier  Essays,  and  "  Sartor  Resartus ;  "  the 
one  or  two  best  works  of  the  great  novel- 
ists, certainly  four  or  five  of  Sir  Walter 
Scott ;  some  definite  knowledge  of  our  own 
authors,  —  Irving,  Cooper,  Hawthorne,  Em- 
erson, Prescott,  Motley,  Bancroft,  Parkman, 
Mrs.  Stowe,  and  our  five  great  poets.  So 
much  we  need  to  read  before  our  minds  are 
well  enough  attired  for  good  society ;  other- 
wise we  must  appear  in  intellectual  home- 
spun. 

3.  Read  somewhat  in  the  way  of  disci- 
pline. This  may  take  you  in  a  direction 
contrary  to  your  tastes.  You  are  doubtless 
fond  of  the  novel,  but  it  is  not  enough  to 
say  :  I  will  read  only  such  as  are  good.  You 
require  another  kind  of  book,  —  an  essay,  a 
treatise,  a  review  article,  a  history  or  biog- 
raphy, —  something  that  may  not  win  at- 
tention, which  therefore  you  must  give.  The 
chief,  if  not  the  only  value,  of  mathemat- 


174  READING. 

ics  as  a  discipline  lies  in  its  cultivation  of 
the  habit  of  attention,  —  close  consecutive 
thought  held  to  its  work  by  the  will.  I  do 
not  see  why  the  same  end  may  not  be  gained 
by  reading,  if  it  is  done  in  this  way  of  attend- 
ing, —  stretching  the  mind  over  the  subject 
so  as  wholly  to  cover  and  embrace  it.  When 
one  reads  out  of  mere  interest,  and  without 
exercise  of  the  will,  the  mind  becomes  flabby. 
There  can  be  no  strength  where  there  is  no 
will.  The  omnivorous  reader  is  often  weak 
and  essentially  ignorant.  There  is  such  a 
thing  as  being  the  slave  of  books ;  true  read- 
ing implies  mastery.  Hare  says  :  "  For  my 
own  part,  I  have  ever  gained  the  most  profit, 
and  the  most  pleasure  also,  from  the  books 
which  have  made  me  think  the  most ;  and 
when  the  difficulties  have  once  been  over- 
come, these  are  the  books  which  have  struck 
the  deepest  root,  not  only  in  my  memory, 
but  likewise  in  my  affections." 

4.  Read  variously.  The  secret  of  true 
living  is  to  have  many  interests.  Think  with 
the  astronomer  and  with  the  farmer ;  with 
your  neighbor  and  with  him  at  the  antip- 
odes ;  with  lawyer  and  doctor  and  clergy- 
man ;  with  merchant  and  manufacturer  ; 
with  high  and  low.  We  are  in  a  rich  and 


READING.  175 

complex  world ;  we  should  touch  it  at  as 
many  points  as  possible.  The  literature  that 
mirrors  it  is  also  rich  and  various  ;  wider 
even  than  the  world,  since  it  contains  the 
past,  and  also  the  possible.  Man  is  coor- 
dinated to  this  richness  and  variety ;  so  far 
as  may  be,  he  should  draw  upon  the  whole 
of  it,  for  he  needs  it  all  to  fill  his  own 
mould.  I  distrust  the  man  of  one  book, 
even  if  it  is  the  best  of  books,  or  of  one  class 
of  books.  A  lawyer  may  get  no  direct  aid 
from  Tennyson  in  pleading,  but  you  may 
more  safely  trust  your  case  with  him,  if  it 
be  a  large  one  ;  the  fact  of  reading  such  an 
author  indicates  that  he  covers  more  space 
in  the  world  of  thought.  A  physician  can- 
not study  human  nature  in  Shakespeare 
without  getting  many  a  hint  which  will  be 
helpful  in  his  practice.  He  fails  oftenest 
in  imaginative  grasp ;  Shakespeare  is  the 
best  teacher  of  breadth.  All  other  things 
being  equal,  trust  the  lawyer  who  reads 
books  of  imagination,  the  physician  who 
studies  books  unfolding  human  nature,  and 
the  preacher  who  does  not  confine  himself  to 
theology. 

In  the  recent  works  of  English  scholars, 
whether  on  natural  science,  medicine,   his- 


176  READING. 

tory,  political  economy,  biography,  or  the- 
ology, you  will  observe  that  they  are  wide 
readers  outside  of  their  departments.  It  not 
only  imparts  a  charm  and  richness  to  their 
style,  but  makes  their  books  more  trust- 
worthy, for  it  shows  that  they  think  in 
various  directions,  and  therefore  are  better 
entitled  to  their  opinions. 

There  is  special  need  of  wide  reading  at 
present,  because  of  a  certain  antagonism 
between  the  great  departments  of  thought. 
Physics  and  ethics,  science  and  theology, 
stand  in  apparent  opposition.  But  the 
reader,  whose  business  it  is  to  "  circumnavi- 
gate human  nature,"  cannot  recognize  such 
antagonism ;  Trojan  and  Tyrian  must  be 
regarded  alike.  It  is  unscholarly  to  read 
science,  and  not  theology ;  physics  and  not 
morals. 

You  will  find,  after  a  time,  that  one  of 
the  chief  delights  in  reading  consists  in 
substantiating  what  you  find  in  one  depart- 
ment by  what  you  find  in  another.  The 
secret  of  the  charm  lies  in  the  fact  that  one 
is  following  the  hidden  threads  that  bind  the 
creation  into  unity.  Material  things  are 
the  shadows  of  spiritual  things  ;  the  law  of 
the  planet  is  in  the  flower  and  in  man.  The 


READING.  177 

intelligent  reader  has  no  keener  enjoyment 
than  in  the  surprise  felt  as  he  comes  on  these 
analogies.  As  an  illustration,  —  in  our  last 
chapter,  the  passion  of  anger  was  spoken  of 
as  hostile  to  physical  vitality.  We  learned 
that  these  wires  which  we  call  nerves  are 
never  so  strong  after  they  have  once  trem- 
bled with  rage,  —  a  fact  taught  by  physiol- 
ogy. But  in  the  Book  of  morals  we  are  for-  ' 
bidden  to  hate,  and  anger  is  declared  to  be 
folly.  As  we  come  across  it  in  physics,  we 
say,  How  wise !  When  we  find  it  in  ethics, 
we  say,  How  gracious !  It  is  a  law  that, 
throughout  each  sphere,  allies  itself  with 
highest  good.  But  what  shall  we  say  when 
we  place  the  two  revelations  side  by  side,  — 
the  body  uttering  its  physical  law  and  the 
spirit  its  moral  law  in  complete  accord,  — 
heaven  and  earth  agreeing  to  one  issue! 
The  charm  of  such  interwoven  truth  is  the 
reward  of  the  wide  and  impartial  reader. 
If  you  have  a  fancy  or  partiality,  you  may 
best  feed  it,  not  by  direct,  but  by  general 
reading,  for  you  will  find  it  running  as  a 
thread  through  all  literature. 

5.  Never  read  below  your  tastes.  If  a 
book  seems  to  you  in  any  way  poor,  coarse, 
low,  or  untrue,  it  should  be  passed  by. 


178  READING. 

There  may  be  reasons  why  we  should  as- 
sociate with  low  persons ;  we  may  influence 
them,  but  we  cannot  alter  a  book.  The 
first  quality  to  be  demanded  of  a  book  is 
that  it  shall  be  true  ;  the  second  is  that  it 
shall  be  noble.  If  there  is  laughter  in  it, 
it  must  be  the  laughter  of  the  gods.  Books 
of  humor,  especially  those  of  American 
origin,  are  to  be  carefully  scrutinized,  and  at 
most  but  "  tasted."  Those  of  Lowell  and 
Holmes  are  almost  the  only  exceptions. 

6.  Read  on  a  level  with  your  author, 
with  no  subservience,  in  a  kindly  critical 
mood,  —  the  author  a  person,  yourself  also 
consciously  a  person. 

I  occasionally  turn  over  the  leaves  of  a 
copy  of  Tucker's  "  Light  of  Nature,"  —  as 
solid  and  abstruse  a  book  as  one  often  en- 
counters, —  which  was  owned  and  annotated 
on  its  broad  margins  by  Leigh  Hunt.  It 
is  admirable  to  see  how  the  airy  poet  kept 
abreast  of  his  robust  author,  challenging 
his  thought,  denying  here  and  agreeing 
there.  I  have  by  me  a  copy  of  the  "  Life 
and  Letters  of  Henry  More,"  annotated  by 
President  Stiles  ;  but  the  old  New  England 
divine  does  not  seem  to  have  been  abashed 
before  the  great  Platonist.  Do  not  sit  at 


READING.  179 

the  feet  of  your  author  but  by  his  side  ; 
trust  him  but  watch  him.  He  has  his  limi- 
tations and  prejudices,  and  at  some  point 
they  may  be  narrower  than  your  own. 
This  is  eminently  necessary  in  reading  such 
authors  as  George  Eliot,  Emerson,  Carlyle, 
and  Matthew  Arnold.  The  critical  faculty 
is  assisted  by  wide  reading.  We  not  only 
use  our  own  judgment,  but  we  learn  to  pit 
authors  against  each  other :  Emerson  the 
transcendentalist  against  George  Eliot  the 
positivist ;  the  spiritual  Amiel  against  the 
materialistic  Spencer.  It  is  not  necessary 
to  agree  wholly  with  any  author  ;  there  is  in 
each  a  limitation,  a  weakness,  which  is  to  be 
taken  for  granted.  It  is  Shakespeare  only 
who  seems  never  to  falter,  never  to  go  be- 
yond or  fall  sTiort. 

7.  Read  in  the  line  of  your  pursuit.  If 
you  build  sewers  or  bridges,  study  up  the 
Roman  aqueducts.  If  you  handle  dyes,  do 
not  be  ignorant  of  the  Tyrian  purple.  The 
obvious  effect  of  reading  upon  one's  pursuit 
is  that  one  can  follow  it  more  intelligently ; 
but  it  has  a  finer  value  :  when  we  take  our 
labor  into  literature  it  is  ennobled.  Farm- 
ing has  grown  steadily  in  dignity  as  it  has 
been  studied  and  followed  in  the  light  of 


180  READING. 

books.  When  we  read  of  our  pursuits,  we 
think  of  them  more  calmly,  more  profoundly 
and  objectively.  Our  vocation  is  so  near  us 
that  we  do  not  see  it,  but  the  book  separates 
us  from  it  so  that  we  look  on  all  sides.  And 
if  by  chance  it  throws  about  it  some  ray  of 
genius,  puts  it  into  the  setting  of  a  poem  or 
romance,  we  go  to  its  tasks  with  lighter 
hearts. 

8.  I  have   no   need  to  suggest   that  one 
should  read  in  view  of  one's  deficiencies. 

9.  Read   thoroughly.      The    triteness    of 
the  words  measures  their  importance.     You 
may  glide    over   the    newspaper    and   rush 
through   the    novel,  but    have  constantly  at 
hand  something  of  a  substantial  character, 
and  fit  to  be  classed  as  literature,  —  a  his- 
tory, a  biography,  a  volume  of   travels   or 
essays  or  science,  which  you  are  reading  for 
the  definite  purpose  of  mastering  its    con- 
tents. 

Webster  said,  "  Many  other  students 
read  more  than  I  did,  and  knew  more  than 
I  did,  but  so  much  as  I  read  I  made  my 
own."  Burke  read  a  book  as  if  he  were 
never  to  see  it  a  second  time. 

10.  Read  from  a  centre.     I  mean,  take 
your  stand  upon  an  epoch,  or  character,  or 


READING.  181 

question,  and  read  out  from  it.  Suppose  it 
be  Iceland :  first  know  the  country  by  books 
of  travel,  then  study  its  history  through  its 
millennium  back  to  Denmark,  then  its  litera- 
ture as  it  runs  into  Scandinavian  romance 
and  mythology,  then  trace  its  explorations 
upon  this  continent.  Suppose  it  be  Milton : 
hunt  him  up  and  down  in  the  encyclopae- 
dias and  wherever  else  he  may  be  found,  from 
Dr.  Johnson's  Life  a  hundred  and  fifty 
years  ago,  to  Pattison's  Life  of  yesterday. 
You  thus  come  into  a  sort  of  intimacy  with 
your  character  that  is  almost  personal  and 
even  friendly,  if  you  care  so  to  have  it.  Or 
suppose  it  be  history :  when  you  come  to 
such  a  character  as  Cromwell  or  Mary  Stuart, 
find  out  what  the  various  authors  say,  from 
the  Tory  Hume  to  the  radical  Froude  and  the 
dissenting  Geikie.  One  age,  one  country, 
one  character,  thoroughly  mastered  —  this  is 
reading. 

If  this  seems  like  making  a  toil  of  what 
should  always  be  a  pleasure,  let  me  say  that 
after  a  time  this  habit  of  thoroughness  gets  to 
be  a  source  of  keenest  enjoyment.  We  speak 
of  the  pleasures  of  knowledge,  but  may  not 
have  discovered  that  only  exact  knowledge 
can  yield  pleasure.  The  principle  goes  very 


182  READING. 

deep.  A  desultory,  careless  reader  may 
draw  a  certain  excitement  from  books,  but 
no  peace  or  satisfaction. 
/  11.  Having  made  by  chance  a  decalogue 
of  rules,  among  which  I  trust  there  is  no 
useless  one,  I  close  with  an  eleventh  com- 
mandment, greater  than  all:  Cultivate  a 
friendly  feeling  towards  books. 

Frederick  Denison  Maurice  wrote  a  vol- 
ume named  "  The  Friendship  of  Books."  It 
indicates  a  very  real  thing.  Milton  went  so 
far  in  giving  personality  to  a  book  that  he 
said,  "  Almost  as  well  kill  a  man  as  a  book." 
Books  are  our  most  steadfast  friends  ;  they 
are  our  resource  in  loneliness  ;  they  go  with 
us  on  our  journeys  ;  they  await  our  return  ; 
they  are  our  best  company ;  they  are  a 
refuge  in  pain  ;  they  breathe  peace  upon 
our  troubles  ;  they  await  age  as  ministers 
of  youth  and  cheer ;  they  bring  the  whole 
world  of  men  and  things  to  our  feet ;  they 
put  us  in  the  centre  of  the  world  ;  they  sum- 
mon us  away  from  our  narrow  life  to  their 
greatness,  from  our  ignorance  to  their  wis- 
dom, from  our  partial  or  distempered  vision 
to  their  calm  and  universal  verdicts.  There 
may  be  something  of  discord  in  their  min- 
gled voices,  but  the  undertone  speaks  for 
truth  and  virtue  and  faith. 


VIII. 

AMUSEMENTS. 


L 


"  Let  him  not  attempt  to  regulate  other  people's  plea- 
sures by  his  own  tastes."  —  HELPS. 

"And  the  streets  of  the  city  shall  be  full  of  boys  and 
girls  playing  in  the  streets  thereof."  —  ZECHABIAH. 

"  I  can  easily  persuade  myself,  that,  if  the  world  were 
free,  —  free,  I  mean,  of  themselves,  —  brought  up,  all, 
out  of  work  into  the  pure  inspiration  of  truth  and  charity, 
new  forms  of  personal  and  intellectual  beauty  would 
appear,  and  society  itself  reveal  the  Orphic  movement." 

—  BUSHNELL. 

"  The  only  happiness  a  brave  man  ever  troubled  him- 
self with  asking  much  about,  was  happiness  enough  to 
get  his  work  done."  —  CARLYLE. 

"The  object  of  all  recreation  is  to  increase  our  ca- 
pacity for  work,  to  keep  the  blood  pure,  and  the  brain 
bright,  and  the  temper  kindly  and  sweet."  —  DB.  R.  W. 
DALE. 


VIII. 

AMUSEMENTS. 

I  WOULD  prefer,  if  it  were  possible,  to 
avoid  entering  on  the  question  as  to  the 
right  or  wrong  of  certain  amusements,  be- 
cause I  think  it  a  very  poor  and  profitless 
discussion.  It  were  better  to  take  the  sub- 
ject out  of  the  plane  of  scruple  and  allow- 
ance, —  so  far  and  no  farther,  this  much 
and  no  more,  —  and  lift  it  up  into  a  nobler 
atmosphere.  Instead  of  haggling  over  the 
proper  allowance  or  kind  of  amusements,  I 
would  have  one  rather  indifferent  to  the 
whole  subject  —  above  it,  in  short.  If  you 
are  animated  by  right  principles,  and  have 
awakened  to  the  dignity  of  life,  the  sub- 
ject of  amusements  may  be  left  to  settle  it- 
self. It  is  not  a  difficult  question  unless  it 
be  made  primary.  When,  however,  amuse- 
ments dominate  the  life  ;  when  they  consume 
any  considerable  fraction  of  one's  time  or 
income ;  when  they  are  found  to  be  giving  a 


186  AMUSEMENTS. 

controlling  tone  to  the  thoughts ;  when  they 
pass  the  line  of  moderation,  and  run  into 
.excess ;  when  they  begin  to  be  in  any  degree 
a  necessity,  —  having  shaped  the  mind  to 
their  form,  —  they  grow  vexatious,  and  be- 
come a  difficult  factor  in  the  adjustment  of 
conduct. 

There  is  a  famous  saying  of  St.  Augus- 
tine, "  Love  and  do  all  things,"  that  covers 
the  subject,  though  its  generalization  may 
be  too  broad  for  common  use.  Still,  I  hate 
to  descend  from  the  lofty  principle  that 
should  guide  us  in  the  matter,  to  its  details. 
I  wish  young  men  were  so  devoted  to  their 
callings  that  they  would  feel  but  slight  in- 
terest in  the  popular  amusements  of  the  day. 
I  wish  they  had  such  a  sense  of  the  value  of 
time  when  devoted  to  books,  that  they  would 
not  waste  their  evenings  before  minstrel 
troupes,  or  in  games  of  any  sort.  I  wish 
they  were  so  sensitive  to  place  and  company 
that  they  would  avoid  the  common  billiard 
saloon.  I  wish  they  were  so  thrifty  of 
money,  so  careful  of  health,  and  so  sensible 
on  several  other  points,  that  the  all-night 
ball  would  be  out  of  the  question.  I  wish 
they  had  so  much  of  that  fine  feeling  called 
aristocratic  that  they  would  decline  to 


AMUSEMENTS.  187 

mingle  socially  in  company  that  is  open  to 
all  on  payment  of  money,  —  a  doorkeeper 
and  a  ticket  the  only  introduction  and  bar- 
rier. I  wish  they 'had  so  lofty  an  ambition, 
such  a  determination  to  get  on  and  up  in  the 
world,  that  they  would  give  all  these  things 
the  go-by  for  the  most  part. 

But  these  wishes  are  keyed  too  high  for 
realization,  and  I  must  speak  in  another 
way,  coming  nearer  to  the  casuistry  of  the 
subject,  though  I  dislike  that  view  of  it. 
Your  demand  is  for  distinctions  and  drawn 
lines,  and  definite  rehearsal  of  the  innocent 
and  forbidden.  Well,  if  we  make  distinc- 
tions, let  us  at  least  make  true  ones. 

The  present  perplexity  largely  comes  from 
accepting,  in  a  hereditary  way,  distinctions 
that  once  may  have  been  necessary,  but  are 
so  no  longer.  The  amusements  and  vices  of 
English  society  under  the  Stuarts  were  so 
interwoven  that  it  was  easier  to  sweep  out 
the  whole  by  a  single  act  of  Tieroic  protest 
than  it  was  to  enter  upon  the  nice  work  of 
separation.  It  may  have  been  wise  social 
economy,  but  it  was  a  mistake  to  insert  this 
indiscriminate  cleansing  of  society  into  the 
fabric  of  religion.  The  attitude  of  the  Pu- 
ritan was,  —  I  will  forego  all  pleasures  till 


188  AMUSEMENTS. 

I  have  crushed  out  Cavalier  vices.     It  was 
so  akin  to  religion  that  the  two  became  iden- 
tical.    Vices  and  pleasures  were  put  in  the 
same  category.      There  was  some   justifica- 
tion of  Macaulay's  remark  that  the   Puri- 
tans  objected    to  bear-baiting,  not  because 
it  tormented  the  bear,  but  because  it  gave 
pleasure  to  the  spectators.     The  stress  that 
constrained  the  Puritan  passed  away,  leaving 
a  set  of   distinctions  as  to  amusements  all 
interwoven  with   religion,    but   forming   no 
essential  part  of  it  and  having  no  basis  in 
clear    thought.     Hence    all   moral    training 
in  New  England  has  had  a  large  negative 
element ;  its  sign   has    been  the  not  doing 
certain   things.     Meanwhile  we   have    been 
learning   that  our   Faith,  which    ultimately 
regulates  these  matters,  is  not  keyed  to  such 
a  note,  but  Is  a  gift,  and  a  spirit  that  trans- 
forms all  things.     Our    traditions    and  our 
knowledge   have    come    into    conflict.     One 
side  says,  it  has  always  been  held  wrong  to 
do  this   and  that,  and   therefore    we    must 
abstain.     The  other  side  denies  the  binding 
force  of  such  logic,  and,  as  always  happens 
when  barriers  are  thrown  down,  rushes  into 
extremes.     On  one    side  is  bigotry,  on  the 
other  license.     Each  mistakes,  —  one  in  ap- 


AMUSEMENTS.  189 

plying  the  restrictions  of  religion  to  things 
not  essentially  evil,  the  other  in  forgetting 
that  innocent  things  may  not  be  the  best, 
and  may  be  used  as  bad  things.  All  the 
grand  emphasis  of  religion^  however  mis- 
taken, has  been  on  one  side  ;  all  the  eager- 
ness of  human  nature  on  the  other.  It  is 
not  strange  that  in  such  a  state  of  the  ques- 
tion, young  people  do  about  as  they  choose. 
Truer  distinctions  will  be  made  when  we 
fully  learn  that  our  Faith  is  npt  a  $ystem 
of  restriction,  but  a  bringer-in  of  higher  life  ; 
not  a  rule,  but  an  inspiration.  When  the 
order  and  habits  of  the  Faith  are  estab- 
lished, the  question  of  amusements  will  be 
practically  an  easy  one  to  settle.  It  tells  us 
that  whatever  is  not  in  itself  evil,  whatever 
is  not  in  excess,  whatever  does  not  naturally 
minister  to  vice,  is  free.  It  does  not,  how- 
ever, say  that  it  is  best  to  use  this  liberty 
to  the  full,  nor  that  you  are  not  to  come  into 
ways  of  thinking  which  shut  amusements 
out  of  all  power  to  tempt  or  injure.  A  col- 
lege president  is  wholly  free  to  pull  in  a 
boat-race,  but  higher  considerations  may 
render  it  unwise  that  he  should  do  so  ;  and, 
having  weightier  matters  on  hand,  it  is  not 
probable  that  his  desires  run  strongly  in 
that  direction. 


190  AMUSEMENTS. 

The  debate  practically  centres  upon  dan- 
cing, cards,  and  theatre-going.  In  speaking 
of  them  we  shall  indulge  in  no  equivocation, 
no  paltering  with  false  reasons,  no  throwing 
of  dust  into  the  eyes  in  order  to  gain  time, 
no  use  of  arguments  which  break  down 
when  applied^  without  essential  change,  to 
other  things.  In  illustration^  —  cards  are 
condemned  because  they  are  the  tools  of 
gamblers  and  lead  to  gambling,  but  billiards, 
which  are  equally  the  tools  of  gamblers  and 
are  played  even  less  frequently  without  gam- 
bling than  cards,  have  no  general  and  tra- 
ditional condemnation.  Such  reasoning  and 
such  distinctions  do  infinite  harm.  Nothing 
so  tends  to  break  down  all  sense  of  right 
and  wrong,  as  basing  conduct  on  false  rea- 
sons, and  making  distinctions  that  are  with- 
out reasons. 

In  these  three  things  I  think  it  wiser  to 
discriminate  than  to  reject.  I  grant  that 
they  do  not  represent  very  high  phases  of 
conduct,  and  that  an  atmosphere  not  the 
purest  invests  them  ;  still,  it  is  better  to 
draw  the  line  between  use  and  abuse  than 
to  turn  them  altogether  out  of  life.  It 
may  be  said  that  it  is  easier  and  safer  to 
reject  them,  than  to  apply  the  distinction. 


AMUSEMENTS.  191 

It  ought  not  to  be  easier  to  use  wrong  rea- 
son than  right  reason.  All  application  of 
truth  to  society  is  a  matter  of  faith.  It  is 
better  to  trust  an  untried  truth,  than  to 
work  a  prudential  fallacy.  Besides,  the  ques- 
tion has  practically  settled  itself  by  usage. 
Nearly  all  who  feel  inclined  to  do  so  dance, 
and  play  with  cards,  and  go  to  the  opera 
and  theatre.  The  circles  are  very  small  in 
which  these  amusements  are  totally  inhib- 
ited ;  and,  in  these  cases,  one  is  often  forced 
to  suspect  that  the  reason  for  the  abstaining 
lies  in  the  position  rather  than  in  the  con- 
science. 

The  reason  for  this  almost  general  indul- 
gence in  these  amusements  is  that  they  are 
not  regarded  as  essentially  evil,  or  inconsis- 
tent with  correct  principles.  It  is  plainly 
wiser  to  make  a  distinction  between  use  and 
abuse  than  to  hold  fast  the  door  of  prohibi- 
tion after  everybody  has  gone  through. 

What  then  of  dancing  ?  A  beautiful  and 
simple  amusement,  based  on  the  mysterious 
laws  of  rhythm,  —  the  body  responding 
with  the  grace  of  motion  to  the  measure  of 
music.  It  is  not  strange  that  it  has  been 
used  in  religion.  So  fine  a  thing,  grounded 
in  such  sanctity  of  natural  law,  should  be 


192  AMUSEMENTS. 

kept  at  the  highest  point  of  beauty  and  pu- 
rity. Any  association  of  it  with  what  is  vile, 
or  coarse,  or  excessive,  is  a  profanation.  It 
is,  moreover,  as  a  fine  wine  among  the  plea- 
sures, and  is  not  for  daily  use.  Its  practice 
is  an  instruction  of  the  body,  teaching  com- 
mand of  the  person,  and  grace  and  dignity 
of  bearing.  Its  period  is  in  youth,  while 
rhythm  has  its  seat  in  the  blood,  and  not 
after  it  has  passed  into  the  thought.  So 
fine  a  thing  requires  the  most  delicate  and 
gracious  ordering.  Its  place  is  in  the  home, 
where  parents  greet  only  guests.  The  hall 
at  which  a  doorkeeper  takes  tickets  bought 
in  the  market  is  plainly  not  a  fit  place  for  a 
pleasure  so  pure  and  natural,  and,  because 
natural,  liable  to  abuse.  Of  all  things,  dan- 
cing should  not  be  miscellaneous,  and  there 
are  objections  of  utmost  weight  to  be  urged 
against  the  all-night  ball.  The  general  and 
unanswerable  criticism  to  be  made  upon  it  is 
that  of  excess.  The  physician,  the  teacher, 
the  employer,  the  parent,  the  unprejudiced 
looker-on,  each  brings  in  his  specific  protest. 
It  can  be  tolerated  only  as  you  tolerate  a 
wholesale  violation  of  physical  and  social 
laws. 

What  of  card-playing  ?     I  suppose  if  any- 


AMUSEMENTS.  193 

thing  could  be  annihilated  without  sensible 
loss  to  human  welfare,  it  would  be  that  small 
package  of  pasteboard  known  as  cards ; 
but  we  had  best  not  pray  for  it,  lest  some 
worse  thing  take  its  place.  Their  abuse  is 
immense,  but  they  have  a  use  that  is  at 
least  allowable.  An  abuse  ought  not  to  be 
suffered  to  destroy  a  use,  except  in  rarest 
cases;  it  is  not  the  way  to  prevent  evil. 
The  use  will  constantly  be  clamoring  for 
return,  bringing  back  also  the  abuse.  The 
wiser  way  is  to  separate  them  by  some  prin- 
ciples of  common  sense.  In  this  matter  the 
distinction  is  easily  made.  As  a  household 
amusement,  what  can  be  more  innocent  ? 
In  point  of  fact,  boys,  who  from  the  first 
are  accustomed  to  cards,  commonly  outgrow 
them,  or  hold  them  as  of  slightest  moment. 
But  "  stolen  waters  are  sweet,  and  bread 
eaten  in  secret  is  pleasant."  Many  a  boy 
has  been  morally  broken  down  through 
yielding  to  the  well-nigh  irresistible  temp- 
tation of  an  innocent  game  that  was  pro- 
hibited as  sinful  in  his  home.  There  is 
an  amazing  lack  of  practical  wisdom  in  this 
matter.  "  I  cannot  persuade  my  boys  to 
join  me  in  a  game  of  whist,"  said  a  respect- 
able gentleman  of  his  grown-up  sons.  His 


194  AMUSEMENTS. 

neighbor  forbade  cards  (I  take  this  twofold 
note  from  life)  and  his  four  sous  grew  into 
gamblers.  Gamesters  do  not  come  from 
households  in  which  games  are  the  trivial 
sports  of  childhood.  Their  fascination  evap- 
orates with  the  dew  of  youth.  An  amuse- 
ment in  early  life,  a  recreation  in  age,  a 
thing  of  indifference  in  the  working  period 
of  life,  —  such  is  the  place  of  cards.  Their 
abuse  is  very  great.  As  a  means  of  gam- 
bling, as  a  waster  of  time,  as  taking  the 
place  of  rational  society,  —  for  a  whist-party 
is  an  organization  of  inanity,  —  they  cannot 
be  too  sharply  condemned. 

Young  men  should  govern  themselves 
strictly  in  this  thing.  Don't  play  in  the 
cars ;  gamblers  do,  gentlemen  as  a  rule  do 
not.  Never  play  in  public  places  ;  it  is  the 
just  mark  of  a  loafer.  Kefuse  to  devote 
whole  evenings  to  whist ;  life  is  too  short 
and  books  are  too  near.  Rate  the  whole 
matter  low,  and  have  such  uses  for  your 
time  and  faculties  that  you  can  say  to  all,  I 
have  other  matters  to  attend  to. 

Billiards  come  under  the  same  general 
rules. 

But  the  war  of  opinions  is  waged  chiefly 
over  the  opera  and  theatre.  If  the  question 


AMUSEMENTS.  195 

were  to  take  the  form  of  indiscriminate  and 
habitual  attendance  upon  them,  it  would  ad- 
mit of  quick  answer.  There  is  an  old  criti- 
cism of  the  stage  that  is  not  easily  set  aside. 
It  is  twofold  ;  the  appeal  to  the  sensibilities 
is  excessive ;  the  scenic  cannot  be  made  a 
vehicle  of  moral  teaching,  because  the  me- 
dium is  one  of  unreality,  —  in  fine,  because 
it  is  acting.  If  one  were  to  choose  the 
surest  and  speediest  method  of  reducing 
himself  to  a  mush  of  sensibility,  let  him 
steadily  frequent  the  opera  and  theatre. 
What  emotion  do  they  not  stir?  What 
good  purpose  do  they  confirm  ?  Hell  opens  "* 
on  the  stage  and  swallows  up  Don  Giovanni,  / 
but  what  roue  leaves  the  house  with  altered  _j 
purpose  ?  The  play  may  contain  a  moral 
lesson,  but  in  conveying  truth  much  depends 
upon  the  medium ;  the  poorest  medium  is 
one  that  is  false.  On  the  stage  nothing  is 
real ;  everything  from  painted  scene  to  cos- 
tumed actor  is  fictitious  except  the  bare 
sentiment  of  the  play,  which  commonly 
shares  the  fate  of  its  medium,  and  is  lost 
with  it  at  the  fall  of  the  curtain. 

The  claim  of  the  theatre  to  be  a  school  of 
morals  is  false  ;  not  because  it  is  immoral, 
but  because  it  cannot,  from  its  very  nature, 


196  AMUSEMENTS. 

be  a  teacher  of  morals.  It  may  have  just 
claims,  but  they  are  not  of  this  sort. 

The  opera  gives  us  music  in  almost  the 
highest  degree  of  the  art.  Human  society 
will  never  shut  itself  off  from  the  realiza- 
tion of  any  true  art,  nor  should  it  do  so. 
Its  instinctive  course  is  to  insist  on  the  art, 
and  to  trust  time  and  change  to  rid  it  of 
evil  association. 

A  like  claim  may  be  made  for  the  theatre  ; 
it  is  a  field  for  the  expression  of  the  highest 
literature  through  a  genuine  art.  Here  is  a 
solid  fact  that  will  never  be  wiped  out.  The 
stage  has  stood  for  three  thousand  years  be- 
cause it  has  a  basis  in  human  nature.  It 
represents  an  art,  and  society  never  drops 
an  art. 

The  abuses  which  have  clustered  about  it 
are  enormous.  In  evil  days  it  sinks  to  the 
bottom  of  the  scale  of  decency,  and  in  good 
days  it  hardly  rises  to  the  average.  Still,  it 
reflects  society,  and  with  the  growing  habit 
of  attendance  on  the  part  of  respectable 
people  it  steadily  gains  in  respectability.  A 
long  journey,  however,  is  before  it  in  this 
direction.  "  Oh,  reform  it  altogether," 
prays  Hamlet.  Bat  the  drift  is  plain,  and 
the  final  solution  is  apparent.  Society  will 


AMUSEMENTS.  197 

not  drop  the  stage,  but  will  demand  that 
it  shall  rise  to  its  own  standards,  and  be 
as  pure  as  itself ;  decent  people  will  have  a 
decent  stage. 

I  have  written  frankly,  because  I  think  it 
better  to  give  young  men  the  true  view  of 
the  subject,  than  to  shut  them  up  in  pru- 
dential inclosures  which  are  full  of  logical 
gaps. 

It  does  not  by  any  means  follow  that  it 
is  wise  or  right  for  a  young  man  to  give  him- 
self up  to  the  habit  of  theatre-going.  Aside 
from  the  moral  contamination  incident  to 
the  average  theatre,  its  influence  intellectu- 
ally is  degrading.  Its  lessons  are  morbid, 
distorted,  and  superficial ;  they  do  not  mir- 
ror life.  "  Seems,  madam,"  says  Hamlet, 
"  I  know  not  seems."  Neither  do  any  of  us 
recognize  the  seeming  with  any  power. 

But  the  crucial  question  comes  at  last: 
Shall  we  never  visit  the  theatre  ?  When 
the  place  is  decent  in  its  associations,  when 
the  play  is  pure  and  has  some  true  worth, 
when  the  acting  has  the  merit  of  art,  I  know 
of  no  principle  that  forbids  it.  But  if, 
under  these  conditions,  you  see  fit  to  attend, 
let  it  be  no  reason  for  visiting  the  average 
theatre,  nor  let  it  represent  a  habit.  The 


198  AMUSEMENTS. 

popular  amusements  should  not  be  made 
habits  ;  it  is  recreation  —  a  very  different 
thing  —  that  should  be  made  habitual. 

Our  answer  provokes  the  straight  ques- 
tion :  Would  it  not  be  better  to  make  it  a 
matter  of  rule  and  principle,  and  abstain 
altogether?  We  can  make  rules,  but  not 
principles ;  they  are  made  for  us.  The  prin- 
ciple here  consists  in  distinguishing  between 
use  and  abuse,  between  the  bad  and  the  in- 
nocent, and  not  in  a  blind  rejection  of  the 
whole  matter.  As  to  the  rule,  I  would  ask 
young  men  to  observe  rational  distinctions, 
not  shut  them  up  to  rules  they  have  no  mind 
to  observe. 

I  have  spoken  thus  of  amusements,  chiefly 
in  order  to  get  them  into  a  region  of  clear 
thought ;  but  I  have  another  and  more  diffi- 
cult end  in  view,  namely,  to  lead  you  to 
regard  them  as  but  trivial  and  secondary 
matters  or  to  take  you  away  from  them  alto- 
gether. They  are  not  of  the  substance  of 
life,  they  do  not  face  the  heights  of  our  na- 
ture, but  are  turned  toward  the  child-side  of 
it.  The  dance,  the  game,  the  play,  all  quite 
innocent  in  themselves  and  involving  some- 
thing of  art,  are  not  the  stuff  out  of  which 
manhood  is  built,  nor  must  they  enter  largely 


AMUSEMENTS.  199 

into  it.  We  naturally  connect  them  with 
early  years,  and  expect  them  to  drop  their 
claims  when  life  fully  asserts  itself.  It 
seems  not  quite  the  true  order  when  they 
largely  engage  the  interest  of  men  and  wo- 
men who  are  in  the  midst  of  their  years. 
Still,  this  is  a  matter  of  individual  taste  and 
judgment. 

I  wage  no  crusade  against  these  amuse- 
ments ;  I  am  only  solicitous  lest  you  rate 
them  too  highly,  and  weigh  them  too  care- 
lessly. It  is  painful  to  see  a  young  man  in 
a  flutter  of  question  if  he  may  engage  in 
this  or  that  amusement.  Diogenes  does  not 
long  pause  over  him.  Two  young  men  go 
to  their  teacher,  or  some  wise  friend,  for  ad- 
vice; one  asks  if  it  is  wrong  to  dance,  or 
play  with  cards,  or  go  to  the  theatre.  His 
friend  tells  him  that  it  is  not  necessarily 
wrong  to  do  these  things,  and,  with  a  word 
of  caution,  somewhat  sadly  sends  him  away. 
The  other  young  man  asks  him  if  he  can  put 
him  in  the  way  of  getting  a  list  of  the  Ro- 
man emperors,  or  a  fair  estimate  of  Dean 
Swift,  or  the  various  theories  of  the  Great 
Pyramid,  or  the  "  Life  of  Stephenson,"  as 
he  has  some  thought  of  becoming  a  railroad 
man.  It  needs  no  prophet  to  foretell  which 


200  AMUSEMENTS. 

will  be  brakeman,  and  which  president  of 
the  road. 

You  have  already  detected  my  purpose. 
It  is  not  to  mete  the  bounds  of  amusements, 
but  to  turn  you  away  from  any  deep  interest 
in  them.  They  are  free  to  you  in  a  wise 
way,  but  you  have  other  business  in  hand. 

It  is  not  without  reason  that  I  call  you  to 
the  severer  estimate  of  the  subject.  As  mat- 
ters are  going,  society  seems  to  be  shaping 
itself  into  an  organization  for  generating  the 
greatest  possible  amount  of  pleasure.  The 
commonest  figure  to-day  —  I  fear  he  is  al- 
most typical  —  is  the  young  man  demanding 
first  of  all  that  he  shall  be  amused ;  amused 
he  must  be,  at  whatever  cost,  and  if  society 
and  education  and  church  are  not  shaped  to 
that  end  he  will  have  nought  to  do  with 
them.  Meanwhile  church  and  college  and 
society  hasten  to  comply,  suggesting  that 
the  main  business  of  each  is  to  keep  up  a 
"  show."  One  wishes  with  Douglas  Jerrold 
"  that  the  world  would  get  tired  of  this  eter- 
nal guffaw."  Let  me  say  to  the  young  men 
who  read  these  pages,  that  while  the  many 
are  amusing  themselves,  a  few  earnest  ones 
turn  aside  and  seize  the  prizes  of  life.  I 
would  have  you  of  this  number.  I  would 


AMUSEMENTS.  201 

persuade  you  to  extricate  yourselves  from 
the  giggling  crowd,  and  hold  that  life  may 
be  worth  living  even  if  it  does  not  pro- 
vide you  with  a  stunning  amusement  every 
twenty-four  hours.  I  would  have  you  strong 
and  clear-headed  enough  to  enter  your  pro^ 
test  against  the  insidious,  emasculating  idea 
so  prevalent,  that  the  main  object  in  life  is 
"  to  have  a  good  time."  I  would  have  you 
realize  that  "  a  soul  sodden  with  pleasure  " 
is  the  most  utterly  lost  and  degraded  soul 
that  can  be.  When  pleasure  rules  the  life, 
mind,  sensibility,  health  shrivel  and  waste, 
till  at  last  and  not  tardily,  no  joy  in  earth  or 
heaven  can  move  the  worn-out  heart  to  re- 
sponse. 

But  shall  a  young  man  have  no  amuse- 
ments ?  He  is  not  shut  off  from  any  that 
sound  sense  and  a  high  ambition  allow ;  but 
if  these  governing  principles  are  not  kept 
at  the  fore-front  of  life,  nothing  is  admissi- 
ble. Just  now  amusement  seems  to  be  pri- 
mary, while,  in  truth,  it  is  the  last  thing 
about  which  we  need  to  concern  ourselves. 
What  does  a  bird  or  an  angel  think  of  it? 
Each  wings  his  way,  and  his  flight  is  his  joy. 

Mr.  Euskin  touches  our  theme  most  aptly  : 
"  All  real  and  wholesome  enjoyments  possible 


202  AMUSEMENTS. 

to  man  have  been  just  as  possible  to  him  since 
first  he  was  made  of  the  earth  as  they  are 
now.  To  watch  the  corn  grow  and  the  blos- 
soms set,  to  draw  hard  breath  over  plough- 
share and  spade,  to  read,  to  think,  to  love,  to 
hope,  to  pray  ;  these  are  the  things  that 
make  men  happy."  Mr.  Ruskin  is  too  lofty, 
too  severe,  you  say.  We  find  ourselves  after 
this  long  discussion  simply  exhorted  to  noble 
feelings  and  ambitions,  and  left  befogged 
in  clouds  of  high  sentiment ;  life  after  all  is 
made  up  of  real  acts ;  we  want  to  know  ex- 
actly with  what  form  of  pleasure  we  may 
offset  our  hard  toil  of  brain  or  hands,  how 
we  shall  let  off  this  exuberance  of  vitality 
that  bubbles  within,  how  we  may  gratify  this 
instinct  of  play  —  natural  as  laughter  itself. 
I  will  make  what  answer  I  can. 

The  amusements  referred  to,  the  stage,  the 
dance,  the  games,  and  things  of  like  nature, 
—  are  not  to  be  regarded  as  true  recreation  or 
play.  They  do  not  rest  one  except  as  change 
rests,  they  consume  vitality  rather  than  fur- 
nish a  channel  for  it,  and  they  cannot  always, 
from  their  nature,  be  closely  ingrafted  with 
daily  life.  They  may  serve  as  an  occasional 
pleasure,  but  they  cannot  afford  constant 
recreation,  which  every  one  must  have,  and 


AMUSEMENTS.  203 

can  hardly  have  in  excess.  I  would  make 
the  broadest  and  most  emphatic  distinction 
between  pleasure  derived  from  these  amuse- 
ments, and  enjoyment  drawn  from  other 
sources.  I  mean,  by  this  distinction,  get- 
ting our  own  natures  at  work  in  simple  and 
pleasurable  ways  instead  of  looking  for  ex- 
ternal excitement. 

I  may  seem  to  have  reached  a  very  prosaic 
conclusion,  but  I  claim  that  motion  in  the 
open  air,  under  clear  skies,  and  in  close  con- 
tact with  nature,  is  the  finest  and  keenest 
recreation  possible  to  a  healthy-minded,  full- 
blooded  man.  When  it  is  not  so  regarded, 
it  is  because  neither  mind  nor  body  are  in 
normal  condition.  The  distinguishing  mark 
of  those  who  are  devoted  to  the  amusements, 
as  contrasted  with  those  who  delight  in  open- 
air  recreation,  is  listlessness,  —  a  very  com- 
mon thing  as  we  note  the  gait,  air,  and  voice 
of  many  young  men.  The  grandest  figure 
of  a  man  seen  in  Great  Britain  for  a  hun- 
dred years  was  Christopher  North.  In  the 
chapter  on  Health  we  described  him  as  run- 
ning among  the  Highlands  for  hours,  exult- 
ing in  what  De  Quincey  calls  "  the  glory  of 
motion."  Wilson  knew  what  pleasure  was 
in  other  forms,  but  he  knew  nothing  higher 


204  AMUSEMENTS. 

than  this,  —  a  glorious  manhood  intoxicated 
with  the  wine  of  overflowing  life. 

When  Dr.  Wayland  was  asked  what  plea- 
sures he  would  recommend,  he  said,  "  Take 
a  walk."  It  was  not  very  prosy  advice, 
nor  will  it  seem  such  to  one  who  has  not 
sunk  into  a  prosy  state  of  mind  and  body. 
Thoreau  considered  a  walk  the  height  of 
felicity.  My  point  is,  if  you  would  get  into 
close  contact  with  nature  and  cultivate  the 
intimacies  and  sympathies  which  look  in  that 
direction,  you  would  win  an  enjoyment  far 
finer  than  that  to  be  got  from  the  technical 
amusements,  with  their  feverish  accessories. 
Climb  the  hills  about  you,  —  West  Rock, 
Holyoke,  Wachusett,  Greylock,  the  Pali- 
sades. What  do  you  know  of  the  ravines 
and  waterfalls  within  a  ten-mile  radius? 
Do  you  know  the  haunts  and  habits  of  the 
animals  in  the  forests  ?  Do  you  know  the 
trees,  the  flowers,  and  their  times  ?  Do  you 
know  the  exultation  that  comes  with  standing 
on  mountain  tops,  and  the  tender  awe  that 
dwells  in  thick  woods  and  deep  glens,  and 
the  music  of  waters  in  these  still  heights? 
And  do  you  know  how  profound  and  sweet 
is  sleep  after  a  day  in  the  woods  ?  An  hour 
or  a  day,  spent  in  the  open  air,  in  saddle,  or 


AMUSEMENTS.  205 

better  on  foot,  with  cheery  company  or  alone 
with  an  easy,  care-discarding  mind,  yields 
recreation  that  is  satisfying  just  in  the  de- 
gree in  which  the  nature  is  sound. 

If  any  say :  this  is  well,  but  not  enough, 
or,  it  is  not  practicable,  let  me  suggest  that 
they  find  a  hobby.  There  is  a  provision  for 
one  in  almost  every  man ;  seek  it  out,  and 
gratify  it  wisely.  If  a  horse,  let  it  be  that, 
—  steering  wide  of  all  jockeying  and  the 
vulgarity  of  the  race-course ;  if  animal  pets, 
nothing  is  more  wholesome.  And  there  are 
the  athletic  sports  and  the  broader  field  of 
the  arts,  fine  and  mechanical,  the  turning- 
lathe,  the  garden,  music,  pictures,  books, 
science,  —  the  keen  and  unanxious  joy  of  the 
amateur  awaits  you  in  each. 

Every  young  man,  remembering  Shake- 
speare's wise  words,  *'  Home-bred  youths 
have  ever  homely  wits,"  should  now  and 
then  travel.  You  say  traveling  is  expen- 
sive ;  but  reckon  what  possibly  you  may 
have  spent  the  last  year  in  cigars,  beer,  balls, 
theatricals,  confectionery,  and  dress  beyond 
your  need,  and  see  how  far  the  sum  would 
have  taken  you,  —  to  Washington,  or  Ni- 
agara, or  Quebec,  or  London  perchance. 

As  our  last  and  weightiest  word  on  the 


206  AMUSEMENTS. 

subject,  I  would  press  the  distinction  be- 
tween amusement  and  enjoyment.  One  is 
pleasure  manufactured  and  served  up  for  us ; 
the  other  is  the  satisfaction  that  flows  from 
the  sportive  action  of  our  own  faculties.  In 
other  words,  amuse  yourself  instead  of  de- 
pending upon  others.  Learn  the  joy  of  the 
exercise  of  your  own  powers  rather  than 
offer  yourself  to  be  played  upon  from  with- 
out for  the  sake  of  a  new  sensation. 

From  within  out  is  the  order  of  all  life, 
from  smallest  plant  to  man.  And  because 
it  is  the  order  of  life,  it  is  also  the  order  of 


IX. 
PURITY. 


"  This  is  a  grace  that  is  shut  up  and  secured  by  all  arts 
of  heaven  and  the  defense  of  laws,  the  locks  and  bars  of 
modesty,  by  honor  and  reputation,  by  fear  and  shame,  by 
interest  and  high  regards." — JEREMY  TAYLOR. 

"  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart :  for  they  shall  see  God." 

"  But  in  me  lived  a  sin 
So  strange,  of  such  a  kind,  that  all  of  pure, 
Noble,  and  knightly  in  me  twined  and  clung 
Round  that  one  sin,  until  the  wholesome  flower 
And  poisonous  grew  together,  each  as  each, 
Not  to  be  pluck' d  asunder." 

TENNYSON  :   The  Holy  Grail. 

"Courage  may  be  considered  as  purity  in  outward 
action ;  purity  as  courage  in  the  inner  man,  in  the  more 
appalling  struggles  which  are  waged  within  our  own 
hearts."  —  GUESSES  AT  TRUTH. 

"  The  sacred  lowe  o'  weel  plac'd  love, 

Luxuriantly  indulge  it ; 
But  never  tempt  th'  illicit  rove, 

Tho'  naething  should  divulge  it ; 
I  wave  the  quantum  o'  the  sin, 

The  hazard  o'  concealing  ; 

But  Och  !  it  hardens  a'  within, 

And  petrifies  the  feeling." 

BURNS. 


IX. 

PUKITY. 

BUEKE  says  in  his  first  letter  on  "A  , 
Regicide  Peace "  that  "  all  men  who  are 
ruined,  are  ruined  on  the  side  of  their  nat- 
ural propensities."  This  general  assertion 
may  have  exceptions  in  those  few  who  are 
almost  without  natural  propensities,  but 
have  instead  some  overmastering  intellectual 
passion,  such  as  avarice  or  ambition.  It  is, 
however,  true  that  most  men  who  are  ruined, 
the  men  whose  lives  crumble  and  fall  apart 
and  come  to  nothing,  reach  such  an  end 
through  natural  propensity,  or  appetite.  It 
may  be  one  of  several  appetites,  but  they 
are  mainly  alike  and  work  in  one  way. 
They  all  rest  on  natural  desire  —  an  inno-  % 
cent  thing  if  properly  governed,  but  when 
not  so  used  a  habit  is  formed  that  usurps  / 

the  will,  dethrones  conscience,  and  drives  the J 

man  into  ruin. 

The  ruin  of  a  man  is  usually  marked  by 
these  steps :  — 


210  PURITY. 

Natural  desire,  —  the  innocent  starting 
point. 

Unlawful  gratification  of  the  desire,  re- 
sulting in  the  formation  of  a  habit. 

A  subtle  growth  of  the  habit. 

Mastery  by  the  habit. 

Ruin  by  the  habit. 

The  destroying  habit  may  spring  out  of 
ignorance ;  it  may  come  through  evil  asso- 
ciates ;  it  may  get  possession  by  means  of 
unusual  and  overmastering  temptation,  or 
by  false  reasoning.  It  is  often  associated 
with  other  evil  courses,  but  commonly  it  is 
the  cause  of  them. 

I  might  generalize  these  statements,  and 
say  that  men  who  are  ruined  are  commonly 
ruined  through  their  bodies  ;  that  is,  the  evil 
work  begins  there.  On  the  other  hand,  I 
might  say  that  a  man  who  is  saved  and  be- 
comes a  true  man  lays  the  foundation  of  his 
success  in  his  body ;  he  was  first  saved  in  his 
body  and  then  all  the  way  up ;  he  first  got 
into  right  relations  to  his  body,  secured  the 
mastery  of  that,  set  and  kept  it  to  its  right 
use  and  place,  and  on  such  a  basis  reared 
the  structure  of  character.  The  physical 
underlies  all ;  and  the  moral  and  spiritual 
are  no  less  fine  because  they  have  such  a 
foundation. 


PURITY.  211 

It  is  not  easy  to  speak  of  the  subject  be- 
fore us;  speech  that  is  too  plain  may  step 
upon  the  ground  of  the  vice  itself,  or  per- 
haps kindle  the  fire  we  would  extinguish. 
But  it  is  not  necessary  to  speak  with  defi- 
niteness.  When  the  word  chastity  is  ut- 
tered, we  understand  the  field  and  scope  of 
the  virtue  it  names,  and  of  the  opposing  vice. 
We  understand  what  the  word  purity  means 
and  know  what  conduct  it  covers.  When 
a  life  is  said  to  be  vile,  we  know  what  habits 
make  it  such.  The  vice  of  such  a  life  is 
so  well  understood  that  it  does  not  need  to 
be  fully  named ;  silence  is  the  loudest  and 
clearest  speech.  When  we  cannot  speak  of 
conduct,  we  know  too  well  what  is  meant. 
Such  treatment  of  the  vice  should  be  enough. 
What  stronger  condemnation  of  a  life  than 
that  it  cannot  be  mentioned  ?  What  a  ver- 
dict against  conduct  when  it  is  spoken  of  in 
whispers  and  with  hurried  words  and  shamed 
countenance  ! 

Much,  however,  of  the  vice  to  which  I 
refer  has  its  beginning  in  partial  ignorance ; 
more  comes  about  through  self-deception  as 
to  what  is  right  and  what  is  wrong ;  more 
still  through  the  sheer  force  of  temptation. 
Hence  it  is  necessary  to  speak  of  the  subject 


212  PURITY. 

—  to  clear  away  sophistries,  and  to  brace 
the  will  against  the  temptations.  The  latter 
is  all  I  shall  attempt  to  do  ;  for  I  do  not 
hesitate  to  recognize  the  fact  that  there  is 
a  battle  to  be  fought  by  every  young  man. 
He  is,  as  Shakespeare  says :  "At  war, 
'twixt  will  and  will  not ;  "  —  a  war  that 
he  must  fight  out  for  himself.  He  may  be 
helped  however,  by  having  shown  to  him 
firm  standing  ground,  and  by  having  good 
weapons  put  into  his  hands. 

Assuming  what  all  well  understand,  — 
namely,  the  force  and  subtilty  of  the  tempt- 
ation, —  I  will  name  some  of  the  guards 
young  men  should  put  about  themselves  in 
order  to  meet  it. 

1.  It  is  almost  needless  to  say  that  you 
should  avoid  any  contact  with  persons  of 
depraved  character.  The  ancient  words  are 
as  wise  as  ever :  "  He  that  toucheth  pitch 
shall  be  defiled  therewith."  To  permit  one's 
self  even  in  the  way  of  curiosity  to  approach 
the  precincts  of  the  evil  is  to  tread  the 
crumbling  edge  of  hell.  One  step  in  that 
direction  is  to  enter  a  path  from  which  there 
is  no  return.  Fools  venture  upon  it  think- 
ing to  retrace  their  steps,  —  such  is  always 
the  excuse,  —  but  the  little  way  and  the 


PURITY.  213 

little  while  lengthen  into  a  journey  that  is 
never  retraced,  or  so  only  as  by  fire.  Let 
this  separation  go  so  far  as  to  exclude  from 
your  company  even  the  man  who  speaks 
lightly  of  these  paths.  Moral  contagion  is 
as  direct  as  physical,  and  the  man  who 
comes  into  close  contact  with  such  evil 
carries  it  with  him  wherever  he  goes,  and 
makes  an  atmosphere  that  no  pure  mind  can 
breathe. 

2.  I  urge  a  proper  and  careful  use  of  the 
imagination.  Command  your  thoughts,  and 
your  conduct  will  take  care  of  itself.  The 
widest  gate  into  man,  both  for  good  and 
evil,  is  the  imagination.  It  is  holding  the 
forms  and  pictures  of  evil  before  the  mind 
without  intending  that  they  shall  become 
acts,  which  leads  at  last  to  their  commission. 
We  fancy  how  it  might  be ;  we  picture  the 
gratification,  we  turn  the  forbidden  thing 
over  arid  over,  and  deem  it  excusable  be- 
cause it  is  all  within  the  mind  and  so  has 
no  reality.  The  imagination  is  strong  in 
early  life,  and  often,  before  its  dangerous 
powers  are  realized,,  the  mind  is  made  a 
chamber-house  of  evil  imagery.  Conduct 
remains  pure,,  but  evil  is  wrought  in  the 
imagination  ;  but  conduct  and  imagination 


214  PURITY. 

are  made  for  each  other ;  thought  means 
action.  Fancy  and  reality  approach  each 
other,  drawn  by  natural  affinity ;  the  hour 
of  special  temptation  comes,  and  the  smol- 
dering fire  flashes  into  open  sin.  We  are 
prone  to  say  that  thinking  does  no  harm  so 
long  as  one  acts  rightly,  forgetting  that  all 
evil  has  its  source  in  the  mind,  whence  it 
springs  into  action.  Sudden  and  unusual 
temptation  accounts  for  some  sin  of  the  sort 
we  are  considering,  but  most  of  it  comes 
from  brooding  upon  it,  from  feeding  in 
imagination  upon  its  forbidden  pleasures, 
from  turning  it  over  and  over  in  the  mind 
like  a  sweet  morsel  in  the  mouth.  When 
there  is  such  a  habit  as  this,  the  will  and 
conscience  lose  their  power.  When  we 
consent  to  an  evil  deed  in  thought,  the  will 
to  a  certain  degree  is  involved.  When  we 
dwell  upon  a  forbidden  pleasure,  the  con- 
science is  partly  won  over.  One  cannot 
thus  indulge  in  fancied  evil  without  weaken- 
ing the  power  of  the  will  and  moral  sense, 
as  well  as  of  finer  qualities  that  stand  guard 
about  us.  It  is  true  that  we  cannot  avoid 
the  momentary  thought  and  impulse,  but  it 
is  one  thing  to  have  passing  thoughts  on 
such  matters,  and  another  to  cherish  and 


PURITY.  215 

prolong  them.  As  the  wise  Fuller  said : 
"  we  cannot  prevent  the  birds  from  flying 
over  our  heads,  but  we  can  prevent  them 
from  building  nests  in  our  hair."  Keep  a 
pure  heart,  if  you  would  have  a  pure  life. 
Make  your  mind  clean,  if  you  would  make 
a  clean  record.  Our  directions  and  courses 
come  from  within ;  as  we  think,  so  are  we, 
and  so  we  act.  If  we  suffer  ourselves  to 
think  in  vile  ways,  we  shall  become  vile. 
Hence  the  very  hardest  part  of  the  battle 
you  have  to  fight  is  just  here,  and  here  the 
victory  is  to  be  won.  There  is  enough 
around  and  within  us  to  start  the  mind  in 
these  directions,  —  pictures  in  shop-windows, 
posters  in  the  street,  scenes  upon  the  stage, 
items  in  the  newspapers,  the  stirrings  of 
desire  in  ourselves,  —  enough  there  is  to 
start  the  fancy  on  its  fatal  errand,  if  we 
but  give  it  rein.  There  is  but  one  thing  to 
do  when  the  mind  gets  to  running  in  this 
direction,  and  that  is,  —  to  stop  it.  Down- 
brakes  !  Get  on  another  track  ! 

3.  Another  point  to  be  carefully  guarded 
is  the  character  of  your  reading.  Nothing 
more  thoroughly  debauches  the  mind  than 
bad  literature,  and  there  is  perhaps  nothing 
at  present  which  is  working  larger  and  more 


216  PURITY. 

disastrous  results.  The  evil  may  not  be 
so  widespread  as  that  of  intemperance,  and 
it  does  not  involve  so  many  innocent  ones, 
but  its  injury  to  character  is  greater,  and 
it  often  paves  the  way  for  the  drinking 
habit.  When  the  mind  of  a  young  man  has 
been  defiled  in  this  way,  there  is  no  whole- 
someness  of  nature  left  to  resist  the  other 
temptation.  One  whose  conscience  does  not 
restrain  him  from  such  reading  will  not 
hesitate  to  indulge  in  drink.  One  whose 
will  has  broken  down  in  this  way  will  have 
no  will  left  to  contend  against  an  inferior 
temptation.  He  has  already  sunk  to  a 
lower  depth  than  that  of  intemperance. 
The  taint  strikes  deeper,  and,  unlike  that  of 
drunkenness,  is  ineffaceable.  A  young  man 
may  shake  off  the  habit  of  convivial  drink- 
ing and  come  forth  pure.  Change  of  asso- 
ciates and  of  place  may  help  him,  and  when 
the  appetite  is  conquered,  as  it  may  be,  there 
is  left  a  sound  and  uncorrupted  nature ; 
hurt  it  may  be,  but  not  beyond  entire  re- 
covery. Not  thus  can  one  shake  off  and 
overcome  the  debasement  which  follows  the 
violation  of  these  holiest  instincts  of  our 
nature,  even  though  the  violation  be  con- 
fined to  the  eye  and  the  thoughts  :  — 


PURITY.  217 

"  Where  such  fairies  once  have  danced 
No  grass  will  ever  grow.' ' 

The  corrupting  image  sets  its  seal  upon 
the  most  plastic  yet  enduring  part  of  our 
nature,  —  the  imagination,  —  whence  it  is 
always  ready  to  send  up  its  base  reflections 
into  the  thoughts.  When  the  faculty  be- 
comes debauched  in  this  way,  the  man  is 
poisoned  all  through.  Thenceforward  no- 
thing is  pure  ;  the  good  angel  of  his  nature 
covers  its  face  in  shame  and  departs. 

You  may  ask,  What  is  meant  by  cor- 
rupt literature  ?  I  am  so  eager  to  have  you 
become  familiar  with  true  literature  that  I 
am  glad  to  make  the  proper  distinction. 
All  high  literature  —  by  which  I  mean  liter- 
ature that  is  noble  in  spirit  and  pure  in  its 
aim  —  may  safely  be  trusted  even  though  it 
deals  with  gross  vice  and  turns  on  the  play 
of  the  passions.  The  tone,  the  spirit,  the  at- 
mosphere, the  purpose,  rather  than  the  topic 
of  the  book  will  determine  its  influence. 
Hence  I  would  have  you  read  "  The  Scar- 
let Letter,"  and  "  Othello,"  and  "  The  Heart 
of  Midlothian,"  —  books  that  turn  on  such 
themes,  but  not  injurious  because  there  are 
no  details  that  grossly  offend  modesty,  while 
the  purpose  and  the  atmosphere  are  pure. 


218  PURITY. 

I  refer  to  books  of  another  sort  —  novels, 
mostly  from  the  French,  that  tell  everything 
and  conceal  nothing,  and  have  no  other  real 
object  than  to  stir  the  passions  ;  and  a  still 
lower  class  that  circulate  secretly  from  hand 
to  hand  and  in  the  dark ;  books  that  are 
never  seen  exposed  for  sale,  but  get  into  cir- 
culation through  covert  advertisement  and 
through  the  mails ;  books  and  papers  that 
are  printed  in  secret,  and  sold  in  secret,  and 
read  in  secret  —  a  process  of  secret  shame 
and  shameful  secrecy  from  first  to  last, — 
issuing  from  the  lowest  depths  of  vileness, 
and  leaving  vileness  wherever  they  go  ;  this 
is  the  literature,  if  such  it  can  be  called, 
against  which  I  am  forced  to  warn  you. 

There  is  injury  in  reading  one  such  book 
or  paper  ;  it  may  not  lead  to  overt  sin,  but 
it  damages  you ;  you  are  not  henceforth  a 
sound  moral  being.  For  the  sake  of  one's 
own  comfort  and  peace  of  mind,  one  should 
avoid  this  evil  literature.  Give  it  a  wide 
berth ;  there  is  enough  that  is  good.  Be- 
-  sides,  it  is  playing  with  fire  —  yes,  hell-fire. 
It  is  the  peculiarity  of  the  sin  under  discus- 
sion that  all  its  processes  are  quick  and  pow- 
erful. The  passion  is  well  described  as  ra- 
ging when  once  kindled.  It  sweeps  through 


PURITY.  219 

one  like  fire  in  a  dry  forest ;  a  spark  may 
start  but  nothing  can  stop  it.  And  so  it  is 
wise  to  beware  of  the  sparks,  and  especially 
of  those  that  come  under  the  guise  of  lit- 
erature  and  art.  There  is  a  subtle  power  in 
both,  never  yet  wholly  explained,  of  reaching 
and  influencing  the  inmost  parts  of  our  be- 
ing for  evil  and  for  good.  Hence  the  im- 
perative necessity  that  they  should  be  kept 
pure. 

4.  I  must  also  put  you  on  your  guard  in 
respect  to  conversation.  Wit,  by  its  nature, 
must  have  wide  license.  We  say  many  a 
thing  in  jest  that  we  cannot  say  in  earnest, 
and  a  generous  mind  will  give  a  broad  field 
to  this  lightsome  exercise  of  our  nature. 
But  it  does  not  follow  that  wit  has  all  license 
and  no  bounds.  We  can  pardon  much  to 
wit,  but  there  are  some  themes  that  witty 
speech  and  all  other  speech  should  avoid. 
Wit  is  not  always  innocent  because  it  means 
no  harm.  A  witty  story  is  told  —  a  little 
broad,  indeed,  but  nothing  bad  is  intended ; 
it  does  not  prescribe  nor  suggest  conduct ; 
it  is  for  laughter  only  —  what  is  the  harm  ? 
I  would  be  willing  to  leave  the  answer  with 
you  if,  after  listening  to  such  a  story,  you 
should  go  out  alone  and  look  for  one 


220  PURITY. 

thoughtful  moment  into  the  sky,  and  let  the 
stars  tell  you  what  they  think  of  it ;  or  if  you 
would  recall  the  image  of  some  pure,  glori- 
ous woman,  and  picture  her  face  if  she  had 
heard  it.  It  is  a  pity  that  we  cannot  get  to 
think  of  ourselves  as  white,  and  therefore  li- 
able to  be  soiled.  We  read  in  the  Apocalypse 
of  linen  clean  and  white,  —  the  righteousness 
of  the  saints.  Such  garments  as  these  are 
easily  stained,  and  if  God  put  such  clothing 
upon  us,  it  is  our  business  to  see  that  it  is 
kept  pure.  There  is  an  ideal  of  conversa- 
tion which  all  understand,  and  in  their  bet- 
ter thought  insist  on.  You  would  not  suf- 
fer low  words  and  allusions  to  be  uttered  in 
the  presence  of  your  sister,  but  is  there  any 
reason  why  her  mind  should  be  kept  whiter 
than  yours  ?  If  an  evil  jest  can  stain  a 
woman's  mind,  it  can  stain  a  man's  in  the 
same  degree  ;  and  there  is  no  conceivable 
reason  why  wit  of  this  sort  should  have 
more  license  among  men  than  among  wo- 
men. It  is  a  considerable  part  of  the  prog- 
ress of  human  society  that  the  standard  of 
morality  and  conduct  for  the  coarser  sex  is 
approaching  that  which  is  instinctively  set 
for  the  finer. 

The  harm  of  such  wit  is  that  it  blackens 


PURITY.  221 

wherever  it  falls.  There  are  fine  and  deli- 
cate things  about  human  nature;  we  are 
created  even  as  the  saints  are  painted,  with 
a  glory  about  our  heads ;  —  fine  native 
growths  and  outputtings  of  modesty  and 
purity  and  delicacy  that  are  not  a  special 
gift  or  exclusive  feature  of  either  sex. 
Woman  may  have  them  in  greater  degree, 
and  we  count  it  her  glory,  but  man  also  has 
them,  they  are  also  his  glory,  and  when  it 
is  blasted  by  the  hot  breath  of  evil  speech 
the  man  suffers  as  great  a  loss  as  does  the 
woman. 

Let  there  be  also  as  little  conversation  as 
possible,  of  a  serious  nature,  upon  these 
themes.  Such  conversation  does  not  look  in 
the  right  direction ;  the  motions  of  the  spirit 
are  downward.  Nature  gives  us  the  right 
hint  here  and  hides  from  our  eye  the  thing 
that  is  not  to  be  seen,  and  screens  our  senses 
from  all  gross  processes  and  actions.  Do 
not  suffer  yourself  to  be  caught  by  the  Walt 
Whitman  fallacy  that  all  nature,  and  all 
processes  of  nature,  are  sacred  and  may 
therefore  be  talked  about.  Walt  Whitman 
is  not  a  true  poet  in  this  respect,  or  he 
would  have  scanned  nature  more  accurately. 
Nature  is  silent  and  shy  where  he  is  loud 


222  PURITY. 

and  bold.  There  is  no  better  guide  in  this 
matter  than  those  instinctive  feelings  that 
spring  up  and  stay  in  the  mind  of  every 
pure  person. 

If  you  would  find  this  set  down  in  its  best 
form,  read  Milton's  "  Comus,"  one  of  the 
greatest  of  poems,  written,  indeed,  in  praise 
of  woman's  chastity,  but  not  less  true  when 
applied  to  man's  :  — 

"  So  dear  to  heav'n  is  saintly  Chastity, 
That  when  a  soul  is  found  sincerely  so, 
A  thousand  liveried  angels  lackey  her, 
Driving  far  off  each  thing  of  sin  and  guilt, 
And  in  clear  dream  and  solemn  vision, 
Tell  her  of  things  that  no  gross  ear  can  hear, 
Till  oft  converse  with  heav'nly  habitants 
Begin  to  cast  a  beam  on  th'  outward  shape, 
The  unpolluted  temple  of  the  mind, 
And  turns  it  by  degrees  to  the  soul's  essence, 
Till  all  be  made  immortal ;  but  when  Lust, 
By  unchaste  looks,  loose  gestures,  and  foul  talk, 
But  most  by  lewd  and  lavish  act  of  sin, 
Lets  in  Defilement  to  the  inward  parts, 
The  soul  grows  clotted  by  contagion, 
Imbodies  and  imbrutes,  till  she  quite  lose 
The  divine  property  of  her  first  being." 

5.  One  may  help  one's  self  greatly  in  this 
matter  by  securing  good  physical  conditions. 
I  have  spoken  of  it  as  a  battle,  but  it  is  one 
in  which  we  may  conquer  and  hold  our  vic- 
tory easily  and  securely.  I  wish  to  empha- 


PURITY.  223 

size  the  fact  that  the  preservation  of  charac- 
ter need  not  be  a  raging  war  with  instinct 
and  desire,  but  may  be  made  a  matter  of 
easy  and  peaceful  self-control.  There  is 
nothing  better  settled  than  the  fact  that  pu- 
rity may  become  a  habit,  and  therefore  easy 
of  observance.  In  every  habit  there  is  some 
exercise  of  will,  and  some  temptation  to  the 
contrary,  but  as  a  rule  what  we  do  by  habit 
we  do  easily;  it  becomes  a  second  nature. 
The  government  of  the  passions  is  like  that 
of  the  temper.  With  most  persons  the  tem- 
per is  quick  and  violent,  but  a  gentleman,  a 
self-respecting  man,  finds  little  difficulty  in 
controlling  it ;  or,  if  not,  he  does  not  excuse 
himself  for  yielding  to  it ;  he  does  not  admit 
to  himself  that  it  is  given  to  be  gratified 
rather  than  governed.  So  we  have  the  pas- 
sions, not  for  indulgence,  but  for  govern- 
ment. It  is  not  difficult  to  come  to  a  right 
understanding  with  ourselves  in  this  matter, 
and  to  live  at  peace  with  our  bodies  and 
lower  appetites.  It  is  not  the  full-blooded, 
vigorous  body  that  finds  the  battle  hardest, 
but  one  that  is  grossly  fed,  overstimulated, 
and  uncared  for.  The  robust  and  healthy 
do  not  fall  away  from  virtue  so  often  as  the 
weak  and  unhealthy.  The  revenge  that  a 


224  PURITY. 

body  poorly  cared  for  or  ill-used  often  takes 
lies  in  this  direction.  Hence,  one  of  the 
things  to  be  considered  is  the  bodily  condi- 
tion. Wholesome  and  plain  food,  a  daily 
cold  bath,  vigorous  exercise  even  to  the  point 
of  fatigue,  regular  sleep,  good  ventilation, 
the  utmost  cleanliness,  and  all  other  things 
essential  to  good  health,  —  these  are  your 
helps  and  safeguards.  A  good  body  well 
cared  for  and  well  used  is  not  only  on  the 
side  of  virtue,  but  is  one  of  its  chief  for- 
tresses. 

I  hardly  need  caution  you  against  alcoholic 
drinks.  The  physical  appetites  lie  close  to- 
gether ;  stimulate  one,  and  you  arouse  the 
others.  This  is  not  only  a  moral  but  a  phy- 
siological fact.  He  is  happy  who  has  reached 
manhood  without  having  learned  the  use  of 
stimulants  in  any  form.  He  has  not  only  a 
healthier  body,  but  he  is  better  able  to  utter 
a  decisive  no  when  occasion  requires  it. 
Such  a  man  has  a  fine  consciousness,  a  per- 
vasive sense  of  strength  and  freedom,  and  a 
still  deeper  sense  of  moral  harmony  and 
Tightness. 

"  My  strength  is  as  the  strength  of  ten, 
Because  my  heart  is  pure." 

It  is  also  of  great  advantage  to  lead  a  regu- 


PURITY.  225 

lar  life  and  one  of  incessant  occupation. 
Have  a  plan  for  every  hour  ;  work  while 
you  work  and  play  while  you  play,  leaving 
no  time  between  for  day-dreams  and  vain 
thought.  One  of  the  chief  devils  in  this 
world  is  idleness.  More  sin  of  the  sort  we 
are  considering  comes  in  through  this  door 
than  any  other.  A  main  defense  of  virtue 
is  industry.  It  preoccupies  the  mind,  engages 
the  interest,  and  puts  one  in  accord  through- 
out with  Him  who  works  eternally. 

I  would  say,  in  conclusion,  cherish  a  noble 
contempt  for  all  acts  that  border  on  the  base 
side  of  your  nature.  Live  for  the  higher 
forms  of  life,  —  for  self-respect,  for  honor, 
for  conscious  purity,  for  a  marriage  that  shall 
be  as  pure  on  your  side  as  on  the  side  of  the 
woman  whom  only  you  would  take  for  your 
wife  ;  be  as  strenuous  in  your  demands  upon 
yourself  as  upon  her  ;  offer  her  in  yourself 
what  you  require  in  her. 

So  live  and  act  that  you  can  at  last  say  : 
Whatever  other  mistakes  I  have  made  and 
<sins  I  have  committed,  I  have  at  least  re- 
\spected  myself. 


X. 

FAITH. 


"  Fecisti  nos  ad  Te,  et  inquietum  e^  cor  nostrum,  donee 
requiescat  in  Te."  —  AUGUSTINE. 

"  Lord,  to  whom  shall  we  go  ?  Thou  hast  the  words 
of  eternal  life,"  —  (Said  to  the  Christ.) 

"  Blest  is  the  man  whose  heart  and  hands  are  pure ! 
He  hath  no  sickness  that  he  shall  not  cure, 
No  sorrow  that  he  may  not  well  endure  : 
His  feet  are  steadfast  and  his  hope  is  sure. 

"  Oh,  blest  is  he  who  ne'er  hath  sold  his  soul, 
Whose  will  is  perfect,  and  whose  word  is  whole ; 
Who  hath  not  paid  to  common-sense  the  toll 
Of  self -disgrace,  nor  owned  the  world's  control ! 

"  Through  clouds  and  shadows  of  the  darkest  night, 
He  will  not  lose  a  glimmering  of  the  light ; 
Nor,  though  the  sun  of  day  be  shrouded  quite, 
Swerve  from  the  narrow  path  to  left  or  right." 

JOHN  ADDINGTON  SYMONDS. 

"  If  you  travel  through  the  world  well,  you  may  find 
cities  without  walls,  without  literature,  without  kings, 
moneyless  and  such  as  desire  no  coin  ;  which  know  not 
what  theatres  or  public  halls  of  bodily  exercise  mean; 
but  never  was  there,  nor  ever  shall  there  be,  any  one  city 
seen  without  temple,  church,  or  chapel.  Nay,  methinks 
a  man  should  sooner  find  a  city  built  in  the  air,  without 
any  plot  of  ground  whereon  it  is  seated,  than  that  any 
commonwealth  altogether  void  of  religion  should  either 
be  first  established  or  afterward  preserved  and  main- 
tained in  that  estate.  This  is  that  containeth  and  hold- 
eth  together  all  human  society ;  this  is  the  foundation, 
stay,  and  prop  of  all."  —  PLUTARCH. 


f  V 


x. 

FAITH. 

CARLYLE,  in  that  great  address  of  his  to 
the  students  of  Edinburgh,  says  :  "  No  na- 
tion that  did  not  contemplate  this  wonderful 
universe  with  an  awe-stricken  and  reveren- 
tial feeling  that  there  was  a  great  unknown, 
omnipotent,  and  all-wise,  and  all-virtuous 
Being,  superintending  all  men  in  it,  and  all 
interests  in  it,  —  no  nation  ever  came  to  very 
much,  nor  did  any  man  either,  who  forgot 
that.  If  a  man  did  forget  that,  he  forgot 
the  most  important  part  of  his  mission  in 
this  world." 

I  do  not  propose  in  this  chapter  to  do 
more  than  follow  out  the  thought  of  this 
vigorous  utterance. 

It  will  indeed  never  do  to  forget  "  the  all- 
wise,  all-virtuous  Being v  who  superintends 
human  society,  nor  the  fact  that  we  have 
our  origin  and  therefore  our  destiny  in  Him. 
Whatever  be  thought  of  evolution,  men  must 

A 


230  FAIXff. 

never  doubt  that  they  are  made  in  the  image 
of  God.  Hence  the  Bible  opens  with  the 
creation  of  the  world  and  of  man  —  the 
starting-point  of  philosophy  and  religion,  as 
well  as  of  the  physical  world.  Whether 
those  first  pages  be  regarded  as  typical,  or 
figurative,  or  traditional,  or  mythical,  they 
are  the  profoundest  and  truest  words  that 
we  know.  No  great  thinker  treats  them 
slightly ;  no  man  can  afford  to  forget  their 
personal  lesson.  They  gave  the  greatest 
English  poet  after  Shakespeare  his  theme. 
Milton  was  no  Puritan  fanatic  turning  the 
crude  and  harsh  theology  of  his  day  into 
majestic  verse,  but  a  seer  whose  open  eyes 
rested  habitually  upon  the  summits  of  truth. 
Setting  himself  to  the  deliberate  task  of 
composing  a  masterpiece  of  poetry,  he  se- 
lected, as  the  greatest  possible  theme,  the 
creation  of  man.  Dante  wrote  of  destiny, 
Milton  of  origin  and  so  comprehended  both. 
On  the  ceiling  of  the  Sistine  Chapel  Mi- 
chael Angelo  strove  to  tell  how  man  became 
a  living  soul.  The  created  Adam  lies  upon 
a  sloping  bank  in  the  midst  of  a  dull  and 
desert  solitude  —  nerveless,  lax,  an  animal 
only,  waiting  for  his  completion  into  man. 
Above  him  in  the  air  is  the  majestic  figure  of 


FAITH.  231 

the  Deity  whose  outstretched  hand  touches 
with  one  finger  the  upreaching  hand  of 
Adam,  and  through  the  touch,  the  electric 
spark  of  spiritual  life  is  conveyed,  and  Adam 
becomes  a  living  soul. 

The  first  minds  of  the  world  do  not  repeat 
this  history  in  poetry  and  painting  without 
reason.  It  is  the  world's  strongest  assertion 
of  the  essential  oneness  of  man  with  God,  — 
asserted  by  genius  because  genius  asserts  the 
highest  truths.  Young  men  always  revere 
genius ;  each  wears  something  of  the  glory 
of  the  other.  Hence  they  should  keep  in 
mind  that  it  never  speaks  with  such  una- 
nimity and  emphasis  as  when  it  declares  the 
divine  origin  of  man.  I  find  in  a  recent 
novel  a  clear  and  strong  statement  of  the 
incompleteness  of  man  apart  from  God.  A 
professor  of  mathematics,  overshadowed  by 
death,  is  speaking  to  a  pupil  of  great  force 
and  talent,  who  is  disposed  to  push  his  way 
in  the  world  without  any  recognition  of  God. 
The  dying  mathematician  says:  "No  man 
is  competent  to  calculate  accurately  until 
he  has  as  perfect  a  conception  of  two-ness 
as  he  has  of  one-ness.  You  cannot  estimate 
things  correctly  unless  you  take  into  your 
calculation  another  as  well  as  yourself.  You 


232  FAITH. 

are  but  one  integer.  Handling,  however 
perfectly,  one  factor,  your  calculations  are 
extremely  limited.  The  other  factor  is  God. 
Stay,  I  err,  you  are  not  a  unit !  You  are,  I 
am,  but  zero !  that  is,  apart  from  God.  Ad- 
mitting him,  all  other  factors  follow,  not 
otherwise.  Remember  what  I  tell  you,  this 
is  the  sum  of  all;  separate  quality  from 
quantity,  and  your  result  is  wrong ;  omit 
eternity  in  your  estimate  as  to  area,  and  your 
conclusion  is  wrong ;  fasten  your  attention 
exclusively  upon  yourself  and  leave  out  God, 
and  your  equation  is  wrong,  false,  and  utterly 
wrong." 

I  do  not  think  it  too  much  to  expect  that 
young  men  will  apprehend  these  reasons  for 
a  positive  recognition  of  God.  If  the  rea- 
sons are  profound,  they  are  also  self-assert- 
ing. When  presented,  you  say,  —  I  know 
them  already. 

"So  nigh  is  grandeur  to  our  dust, 

So  near  is  God  to  man, 
When  duty  whispers  low,  Thou  must, 
The  youth  replies,  1  can" 

This  inner  voice,  declaring  for  God  and 
duty,  is  often  hushed,  often  unheeded,  and 
so  at  last  comes  to  be  seldom  heard,  —  a  sad 
and  strange  history.  I  am  aware  that  young 


FAITH.  233 

men  have  a  habit  of  treating  matters  of  faith 
in  a  slighting  way,  as  not  quite  lying  in  the 
line  of  manliness.  I  will  not  say  that  you 
have  not  some  reason  for  thinking  so.  As 
sometimes  presented,  they  are  anything  but 
attractive  to  a  clear-headed,  brave  man, — 
now  as  a  mere  matter  of  future  safety,  bare 
of  a  single  noble  feature ;  now  as  a  thin  and 
pretty  sentiment,  void  of  all  robust  thought 
and  practical  duty ;  now  a  mesh  of  doctrinal 
subtilties,  or  a  tissue  of  traditions  and  dog- 
mas. But  these  phases  of  the  subject  are 
rapidly  passing  away.  Whether  past  or  not, 
we  have  only  to  do  with  the  eternal  truth 
they  obscure.  I  invite  you  into  the  company 
of  the  greatest  and  best,  who  never  reject  or 
slight  this  fact  called  Christianity ;  or  if  any 
do  so,  it  is  because  of  the  pressure  of  some 
special  adverse  influence,  as  in  the  case  of 
men  overweighted  with  the  scientific  habit, 
"dazzled,"  as  Plato  said,  "by  a  too  near 
look  at  things ; "  or  it  is  due  to  an  ill-bal- 
anced nature,  cold  on  the  emotional  and 
blind  on  the  imaginative  side.  It  is  always 
safe  to  trust  the  poets  ;  not  much  moral 
truth  has  got  into  the  world  except  through 
them,  and  never  have  they  put  the  indorse- 
ment of  their  inspiration  upon  any  great 


234  FAITH. 

error.  They  stand  on  the  highest  summits 
of  life,  and  therefore  see  farthest ;  they  live 
closest  to  nature,  and  therefore  understand 
her  most  thoroughly ;  they  are  the  fullest 
endowed  with  gifts,  and  therefore  best  un- 
derstand man  and  his  needs.  They  speak 
with  one  voice  in  this  matter.  Lucretius  in 
antiquity,  —  a  naturalist  rather  than  a  poet, 
—  and  Shelley  in  modern  times,  a  man  pre- 
ternaturally  sensitive  to  falseness  and  so  re- 
pelled by  the  hypocrisy  of  his  age,  though 
Shelley  could  be  quoted  against  himself ;  — 
these  are  almost  the  only  unbelievers  among 
the  poets.  Put  by  the  side  of  Lucretius, 
Wordsworth,  who  seems  to  have  written  no 
line  except  in  that  Presence,  — 

"  Whose  dwelling  is  the  light  of  setting  suns, 
And  the  round  ocean  and  the  living  air 
And  the  blue  sky,  and  in  the  mind  of  man  ;  " 

or  by  the  side  of  Shelley,  the  equally  fine 
and  more  robust  Tennyson,  who  prefaces 
the  greatest  of  his  poems  with  prayer  to 
the 

"  Strong  Son  of  God,  immortal  Love." 

It  is  a  fact  of  immense  significance  that  the 
poets  thus  bow  with  reverence  before  the 
Christian  faith;  for  the  poet  is  a  seer;  it 


FAITH.  235 

is  his  gift  and  function  to  declare  the  reality 
of  things.  Now  Christianity,  in  its  broad- 
est definition,  is  simply  the  reality  of  things. 
It  is  a  setting  forth  of  the  true  order  of  hu- 
manity. When  a  man  grasps  this  secret,  he 
must  accept  Christianity.  He  does  violence 
to  himself,  if  he  refuses. 

I  have  all  along  in  these  pages  had  in 
mind  those  who  have  begun  to  think.  I 
ask  you  to  think  here  —  not  alone,  nor  yet 
with  any  sect  —  but  with  the  great  souls. 
If  they  are  mistaken,  if  they  see  amiss,  the 
whole  world  is  blind. 

But  if,  intellectually,  we  are  forced  to 
accept  the  Christian  idea,  we  must  carry  it 
into  the  conscience,  where  we  encounter 
that  word  which  Carlyle  declares  to  be  the 
mightiest  of  all  words  —  ought,  and  by 
which  convictions  are  transmuted  into  du- 
ties. You  cannot  build  a  wall  about  your 
logical  and  critical  faculties  and  say,  "  Here 
will  I  entertain  my  faith."  There  can  be 
no  wall,  nor  line  even,  between  the  intellect 
and  the  moral  nature.  When  universal 
truths  like  those  of  Christianity  come  to 
man  they  spread  throughout  his  whole  be- 
ing. Intellectual  conviction  means  moral 
assent.  The  conviction  sweeps  like  a  wind 


236  FAITH. 

through  every  recess  of  his  nature,  and  sets  to 
vibrating  those  chords  that  sound  the  ought 
of  duty.  And  so  we  are  borne  on  to  the 
higher  sentiments  of  love  and  adoration  and 
spiritual  sympathy.  If  there  is  a  God^I 
must  love  Him.  I  must  pour  out  my  soul 
upon  Him.  I  must  worship  at  his  feet.  I 
must  be  at  one  with  Him.  The  logic  of  our 
nature,  with  tender  but "  relentless  force, 
drives  us  to  this  final  issue,  — 

/*"Y  ?  "  When  duty  wliispers  low,  Thqu^  must, 

\ZJpjT-ft   V  The  youth  replies,  lean." 

• 

1.  My  first  practical  suggestion  in  regard 
to  faith  is  that  you  treat  it  earnestly  and 
never  otherwise.  If  you  have  wit  to  scatter 
"broadly,  withhold  it  from  this  theme.  No 
sound  nature  ever  makes  a  mock  of  it. 
Your  true-hearted,  fine-grained  man  puts 
off  his  shoes  at  the  door  of  a  mosque  as 
devoutly  as  any  Moslem;  he  treads  the 
aisles  of  a  cathedral  as  softly  as  any  Ro- 
manist ;  he  despises  no  incense ;  he  sneers 
at  no  idol.  He  may  deny,  but  he  will  not 
jest.  The  sneer  is  crucial ;  bring  one  who 
indulges  in  it  to  the  test,  and  you  will  find 
him  crude  in  thought  and  coarse  in  feeling. 
I  know  how  common  it  is  and  how  much 
there  is  to  provoke  it  in  the  humanly-weak 


FAITH.  237 

forms  of  worship  and  eccentricities  of  belief  ; 
still,  the  most  deluded  Seventh-day  Baptist, 
or  Sandermanian  literalist,  ranks  higher 
than  one  who  scoffs  at  them.  I  like  to  hear 
one  pronounce  the  name  of  God  with  a  sub- 
dued awe,  and  to  see  the  cast  of  reverent 
thought  overspread  the  features  when  eternal 
things  are  named.  I  like  to  see  a  delicate 
and  quiet  handling  of  sacred  truths, — as  you 
speak  the  name  of  your  mother  in  heaven. 
I  might  say  that  this  is  the  way  a  gentleman 
bears  himself  towards  religion,  but  I  would 
rather  have  you  feel  that  it  is  the  treatment 
due  to  the  majesty  of  the  subject. 

2.  If  you  happen  to  be  skeptical,  do  not 
formulate  your  doubts,  nor  regard  them 
as  convictions.  Doubt  is  almost  a  natu- 
ral phase  of  life;  but  as  certainly  as  it  is 
natural  is  it  also  temporary,  unless  it  is 
unwisely  wrought  into  conduct.  The  chief 
danger  is  lest  one,  blinded  and  confused  by 
the  "  excess  of  light "  with  which  life  dawns, 
may  come  to  think  that  one  is  not  amena- 
ble to  the  laws  of  morality ;  that,  having 
no  chart  or  compass,  he  may  drift  with  the 
tides.  This  is  not  good  moral  seamanship. 
When  storms  have  swept  away  compass  and 
quadrant  and  chart,  the  sailor  still  steers 


238  FAITH. 

the  ship  and  watches  for  some  opening  in 
the  clouds  that  may  reveal  a  guiding  star  ; 
he  scans  the  waters  for  sight  of  some  fellow 
voyager,  and  at  night  listens  for  the  possible 
roar  of  breakers,  and  so,  by  redoubling  his 
seamanship  at  all  points,  finds  at  length  his 
course.  When  one  finds  himself  in  this 
skeptical  mood,  he  should  govern  himself 
in  the  strictest  manner,  using  whatever  of 
truth  and  moral  sense  he  has  left  with  ut- 
most fidelity,  doing  the  one  thing  that  he 
still  knows  to  be  right.  One  may  doubt, 
and  the  whole  apparatus  of  his  moral  nature 
remain  sound ;  if  one  works  that  aright,  one 
cannot  long  remain  astray.  There  is  won- 
derful light-generating  power  in  good  con- 
duct. "  I  am  skeptical,  therefore  I  have 
nothing  to  do  with  Bible  or  church  or  sermon ; 
I  am  skeptical,  therefore  I  am  not  bound  to 
the  moral  courses  taught  by  religion  ;  I  am 
skeptical,  therefore,  having  no  faith  or  law, 
I  will  be  a  law  unto  myself ;  "  —  this  is 
both  poor  thinking  and  bad  morality.  Skep- 
ticism by  its  nature  as  simply  doubt,  as  not 
even  negation,  requires  that  it  should  not  be 
made  a  rule  or  reason  for  conduct.  It  may 
possibly  be  rational  to  act  from  a  negation, 
but  not  from  a  doubt.  It  is  worse  than 


FAITH.  239 

building  upon  the  sand ;  it  is  building  on 
chaos. 

It  is  well  to  remember,  as  Plutarch  tells  us, 
that  nothing  so  universally  engages  the  at- 
tention of  men  as  religion  ;•  hence,  nothing 
will  bear  so  long  study.  Its  final  verdicts 
are  reached  only  through  experience.  A 
young  man  pronounced  in  unbelief  is  pre- 
mature ;  he  has  decided  that  Jupiter  has  no 
moons  without  waiting  to  look  through  a 
telescope.  The  experience  of  life  almost 
always  works  towards  the  confirmation  of 
faith.  It  is  the  total  significance  of  life 
that  it  reveals  God  ;  life  only  can  do  this ; 
—  neither  thought,  nor  demonstration,  nor 
miracle,  but  life  only,  weaving  its  threads  of 
daily  toil  and  trial  and  joy  into  a  pattern  on 
which  at  last  is  inscribed  the  Eternal  Name. 
It  is  a  fact  of  great  significance  that  Emer- 
son, who  in  early  years  looked  askance  at 
this  name,  suffered  himself  in  old  age  to  be 
called  a  Christian  theist.  I  ask  young  men 
to  wait  and  hear  what  life  has  to  say  before 
they  formulate  their  doubts.  The  years 
have  a  message  for  you  that  you  must  not 
fail  to  hear. 

3.  Be  intelligent  in  regard  to  Chris- 
tianity. 


240  FAITH. 

An  American  statesman,  though  an  un- 
believer, daily  read  the  Bible  on  the  ground 
that  every  citizen  should  be  familiar  with 
the  religion  of  his  country.  Had  he  gone  a 
step  farther  and  read  it  because  it  contained 
the  religion  of  humanity,  he  would  have  read 
from  a  higher  consideration,  and  perhaps  to 
better  purpose.  Christianity  marches  at  the 
head  of  the  army  of  progress.  It  is  found 
beside  the  most  refined  life,  the  freest  gov- 
ernment, the  profoundest  philosophy,  the 
noblest  poetry,  the  purest  humanity.  We 
are  all  of  us  bound  to  have  a  clear  concep- 
tion of  this  fact  which  thus  possesses  and 
dominates  human  society.  It  is  not  too  much 
to  expect  of  young  men  that  they  shall  know 
its  external  history,  and  from  that  go  on 
and  raise  the  questions,  What  is  the  secret 
of  the  power  of  Christianity  ?  Why  does  it 
lay  strongest  hold  of  the  best  races  ?  Why 
does  it  pave  the  way  to  freedom  and  social 
elevation  ?  Why  does  it  make  a  man  bet- 
ter ?  Why  does  it  have  the  peculiar  effect 
of  ennobling  and  dignifying  character? 
Why  does  it  make  the  path  of  daily  duty  an 
easy  one  to  tread  ?  What  is  it  that  makes 
the  epithet  Christian  mean  the  best  of  its 
kind,  whether  applied  to  a  civilization,  to  a 


FAITH.  241 

community,  to  individual  conduct,  or  to  an 
inward  temper  ?  Not  long  ago  a  ship  was 
wrecked  upon  the  reefs  of  an  island  in  the 
Pacific.  The  sailors,  escaping  to  land, 
feared  lest  they  might  fall  into  the  hands  of 
savages.  One  climbed  a  bluff  to  reconnoi- 
tre ;  —  turning  to  his  mates,  he  shouted, 
"  Come  on,  here 's  a  church  ;  "  —  a  simple 
story,  but  involving  the  profound  question  : 
Why  was  it  safer  for  shipwrecked  men  to 
go  where  a  church  upreared  its  cross  than 
where  there  was  none  ? 

4.  I  go  a  step  farther  when,  for  the  same 
reasons,  I  urge  upon  you  a  study  of  the 
character  of  Jesus  Christ. 

It  is  almost  a  modern  thing,  this  analysis 
and  measurement  of  that  divine  Person.  In 
former  days,  when  religious  thought  took 
chiefly  theological  forms,  the  Christ  was  but 
a  factor  of  a  system;  but  since  we  have 
begun  to  think  from  more  practical  stand- 
points, the  question  has  arisen,  What  kind 
'  of  a  man  was  Christ  ?  Dr.  Bushnell,  in  the 
famous  tenth  chapter  of  "Nature  and  the 
Supernatural,"  first  made  the  question  a  gen- 
eral one  in  this  country.  In  England,  it 
had  found  place  in  the  writings  of  Cole- 
ridge, Dr.  Arnold,  Maurice,  Robertson,  and 


242  FAITH. 

others  of  their  school  of  thought.  It  be- 
came popular  through  "  Ecce  Homo,"  and  is 
to-day  the  favorite  theme  of  religious  study, 
as  shown  in  the  close  and  analytic  Lives  of 
Christ  which  follow  one  another  in  rapid 
succession  from  .the  press.  Led  by  such 
teaching,  you  find  that  you  have  before  you 
a  character  more  curiously  interesting,  more 
wonderful  than  any  other  that  history  can 
show.  You  find  that  you  cannot  classify 
him,  —  elusive  and  passing  out  of  sight  on 
some  sides  of  his  character,  yet  most  near 
and  tangible  on  other  sides ;  a  Jew,  yet  not 
Jewish ;  of  the  first  century,  yet  equally  of 
all  centuries;  an  idealist  but. not  transcend- 
ing possibility ;  a  reformer,  but  not  a  de- 
stroyer; making  for  the  first  time  what  is 
highest  in  character  the  most  effective  in 
action,  —  a  true  full  member  of  the  common 
humanity  but  transcending  it  till  he  is  one 
with  God  ;  a  being  at  the  same  time  so  weak 
that  he  can  die,  and  so  strong  that  he  is  su- 
perior to  death,  a  person  at  once  so  near  and' 
human  that  we  call  him  our  brother,  and  so 
high  and  mysterious  that  we  bow  at  his  feet 
as  Lord  and  Master. 

Now,  no  thoughtful  person  can  get  beyond 
the   first   look   at   this  Jesus,  without   ever 


FAITH.  243 

after  holding  him  in  highest  veneration. 
Nor  can  one  study  this  character  closely 
without  perceiving  that  it  contains  the  true 
order  of  humanity,  and  "  points  the  way  we 
are  going  "  to  the  end  of  time.  Nor  can  one 
long  contemplate  the  Christ  without  feeling 
his  personality  pressing  upon  him  with  trans- 
forming power. 

5.  Allow  full  play  to  the  sense  of  account- 
ability. 

When  Daniel  Webster  was  Secretary  of 
State,  he  was  invited  to  dine  at  the  Astor 
House  with  about  twenty  gentleman.  He 
seemed  weary  with  his  journey,  and,  speak- 
ing but  little,  sank  into  a  sort  of  reverie  out 
of  keeping  with  the  occasion.  All  other  at- 
tempts at  conversation  failing,  a  gentleman 
put  to  him  this  strange  question :  "  Mr. 
Webster,  will  you  tell  me  what  was  the  most 
important  thought  that  ever  occupied  your 
mind  ? "  Mr.  Webster  slowly  passed  his 
hand  over  his  forehead,  and  in  a  low  tone 
said  to  one  near  him,  "  Is  there  any  one 
here  who  does  not  know  me  ?  "  "  No  ;  all 
are  your  friends."  "  The  most  important 
thought  that  ever  occupied  my  mind,"  said 
Mr.  Webster,  "  was  that  of  my  individual 
responsibility  to  God," —  upon  which  he 


244  FAITH. 

spoke  to  them  for  twenty  minutes,  when  he 
rose  from  the  table  and  retired  to  his  room. 

It  is  the  most  important  thought,  because 
it  pertains  to  our  highest  relation.  It  ush- 
ers in  the  sum  of  all  duties,  — fidelity.  It 
is  the  only  thought  that  can  move  our  whole 
nature  and  move  it  aright.  Pleasure  and 
ambition  and  self-respect  touch  us  on  this 
side  and  on  that,  but  they  do  not  invest  us 
with  an  all-embracing  purpose,  as  does  this 
sense  of  "  individual  responsibility  to  God." 
There  are  noble  motives  and  passions  that 
bear  us  to  noble  conclusions  in  conduct  and 
character,  but  only  this  lifts  us  to  the  height 
of  our  being.  "  God  made  us  for  Himself," 
says  Augustine,  "  and  we  have  no  rest  till 
we  find  rest  in  Him." 

6.  Make  for  yourself  definite  religious  du- 
ties and  relations. 

I  think  you  all  understand  very  well  that 
the  common  talk  about  respecting  religion  is 
of  very  little  moment  apart  from  conduct. 
Whatever  other  mistake  you  make  in  re- 
spect to  religion,  don't  patronize  it.  This  is 
a  matter-of-fact  world,  and  religion  is  the 
most  matter-of-fact  thing  in  it.  The  hard 
common  sense  of  the  subject  is  that  a  practi- 
cal relation  to  faith  is  the  only  real  and  vital 


FAITH.  245 

relation  to  it.  I  am  at  the  farthest  from 
hinting  under  what  name  you  should  wor- 
ship ;  I  only  say  that  reason  requires  that 
you  kneel  at  some  altar,  and  that  you  confess 
in  some  real  way  your  belief  "  in  the  com- 
munion of  saints."  To  get  the  good  of 
other  relations,  you  fulfill  them.  To  learn 
good  manners,  you  mingle  in  society.  To 
secure  a  fair  name,  you  tell  the  truth  and 
maintain  your  honor.  If  you  belong  to  a 
club,  or  board  of  directors,  you  meet  its 
appointments.  Do  not  regard  the  external 
forms  of  faith  with  less  intelligent  logic. 

I  have  no  fear  that  you  will  think  I 
summon  you  to  other  than  the  most  manly 
view  of  life  when  I  urge  the  religious  view 
of  it. 

We  have  linked  our  themes  at  many 
points  with  the  testimony  of  the  great ;  it  is 
the  glory  of  your  youth  that  you  feel  and 
respond  to  their  inspiration.  They  speak  as 
emphatically  here  as  elsewhere. 

When  Sir  Walter  Scott  was  approaching 
his  end,  he  said  to  Lockhart,  "  I  may  have 
but  a  minute  to  speak  to  you.  My  dear,  be  a 
good  man,  —  be  virtuous,  —  be  religious,  — 
be  a  good  man.  Nothing  else  will  give  you 
any  comfort  when  you  come  to  lie  here ;  " 


246  FAITH. 

—  a  pensive  testimony,  but  how  tender  and 
honest ! 

All  critical  thought  agrees  that  in  "  Ham- 
let "  we  have  not  only  the  profoundest  but 
the  most  personal  thought  of  Shakespeare. 
It  is  hard  to  resist  the  feeling  that  in  the  fol- 
lowing lines  he  struck  deeper  than  the  artist, 
and  revealed  a  personal  conviction  and  ex- 
perience. At  least,  he  knew  what  a  man 
will  do  who  has  sounded  life,  and  caught 
sight  of  his  work. 

"  And  so,  without  more  circumstance  at  all, 
I  hold  it  fit  that  we  shake  hands,  and  part ; 
You,  as  your  business  and  desire  shall  point  you,  — 
For  every  man  has  business  and  desire, 
Such  as  it  is,  —  and  for  mine  own  poor  part, 
Look  you,  I  HI  go  pray" 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


MAY   2  1940  F 

,  r    • 

n       -HtlttftY 

o  ;f  «R5  -1  PM 

MAY  3    W40 

/    ^ 

18Mar'57J<L 

*&v  ^ 

util  1  *  ^ 

w& 

SEP  lb  1y79 

'<r_ 
tfi          \f*f\  A  f\ 

tc.  ciFu  AUG  1  5  1979 

3lMay'62$$ 

*'"\  '-  

^EC'D  LD 

M,B.K 

.«PRH=§j^9-::    .. 

^2^%-* 

JIJM  n  o    .„ 

rt^*^ 

M&HW   |ygg 

IftEC'D  LD 

WCUUT^  DEP1 

AMP  1  n  *nyi    ^i  P 

M 

AUb  1  5  b4  D  r 

^« 

nl 

«*&£- 

apR  2  0  ^)U4 

1  ^L/A 
/^A/^A^Ky 

.n1 

A^^'^    t**'  w 

O  ^  ^P       -4      /^       "i  ^  rt  jl 

UCT  1  2  2004 

LD  21-100w-7,'39(402s) 

YB  22769 


U.C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


CDDS40M3tfl 


IT 


d 


